Worth a Shot
by Babatomyfriends
Summary: Chandler has an idea that he can't let go of. The odds against its success are skyhigh, but for Monica's sake he has to at least try. Because even if it's all for nothing, it's still so worth a shot. Post series Mondler AU (but still based on canon), through Chandler's POV, with a Mondler pregnancy, and all main characters making appearances. Please let me know what you think!
1. The List

A/N: _So yes, here it is, my very first post series Mondler AU. I've had it in my head for quite some time now, almost since I've started writing Mondler fanfic, and I just hope I haven't worked it to death somehow in all that time. This also is why I had to get it out before it started to fade and die on me. Yet now that it's finally written down it does appear rather shaky, and the beginning seems a bit overdrawn too. Also I didn't research this idea Chandler has in any way, just out of fear to find something that made it impossible right away, which would be bad – or other stories with the same idea which would be worse._

_For all those that expect some smut because of the M rating, please bear with me a little longer until the third chapter. There will be a lot of it there. That's a promise._

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Chandler Bing had an idea.

As to be expected, it was quite crazy, a joke of an idea really, completely unrealistic, totally unfounded in fact, merely a soap-bubble that would burst eventually, and leave him – well, disappointed at least. Maybe even heartbroken. But there it was, he'd had that idea, the idea that he could get Monica pregnant right now, and he simply couldn't let go of it. It was idiotic and embarrassing how he kept thinking about it, and made him feel more of a fool the longer he kept persisting in it – but it was no use. He could not get rid of the idea anymore. Even after ten days, ten days in which he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. His mind kept coming back to it, as if it was a sore spot in his mouth he couldn't stop tonguing, or something caught in his teeth he couldn't dislodge. It was no use telling himself that worrying about it wouldn't achieve anything, that he should just do it, give it a shot, and if it didn't work, just forget about it. But somehow that just wasn't possible.

He had considered telling someone about it. Not Monica of course - if it didn't work the disappointment would be much harder to bear for her than for him - but a friend or a work colleague. Or even a stranger, in a bar or somewhere, or maybe a doctor or other professional. That should have been his first choice really, but somehow he couldn't bear the thought of his idea getting out into the open, being discussed and weighed and then – in all probability – dismissed. As improbable, foolish and totally unlikely to succeed. No, not that. Also he was quite sure that telling someone would not help him. Quite the contrary.

As a feeble effort to validate the idea at least a little he had tried to research it in the internet, but the results were, as always, vague at best, and he had given up rather soon. It might work. Or it might not. He could really only try and see.

But since talking or researching was out, he had to do something else to clear his brain, if only to avoid getting all worked up about it and prevent his head from exploding. So he remained at his desk during his lunch break, with a pad before him, and made up a list. A list of the consequences he would have to face in the extremely unlikely case he would succeed.

Or tried to make a list. He had gotten as far as the headers for the two columns: Pro and Con. And underlining them, and then dividing the two columns further by a firm line down the middle of the paper.

He did have a laptop sitting on his desk right before him, and a tablet too on which he could have drawn up his list just as easily – and more efficiently, but as soon as he considered typing the list on one of those devices he remembered the last time he had drawn up a list like this – a list of pro and cons – on a computer, and the disaster that had ensued when it had printed just as Rachel had come into the room and got to read it. The list of pros and cons for Ross to help him chose between her and Julie. The memory still stung, especially since it had been his idea. It had taken three months for Rachel to get over that list and forgive Ross (and him too). No, with this subject too it was much better to write it down by hand. With a pencil. On paper that could be torn up. Or burnt. Even eaten if necessary. Or even all three, just to ensure that Monica never ever saw that list. If she ever did - it didn't bear thinking.

Chandler stared at the two still empty columns and groaned. He wasn't even sure that making a list like that would really help, especially since he was quite determined to try it anyhow. But he had to do something to get his thoughts in line. It was driving him crazy.

Finally he put the pencil to the paper and started to fill in the 'Con' column. Just like that first time – could it really be 18 years ago? 18 YEARS? Where did the time go? – when they tried to come up with reasons against a relationship with Rachel.

Hesitatingly he wrote 'Money'. And stopped again, scowling. Then he added a question mark. Actually their financial situation was quite sound. The mortgages on their house would still have to be paid off for another 10 years at least, but although Monica had quit her full time job once the twins were born and now only worked in a consultant capacity for her boss at Javu's, still it brought in enough, together with his own salary, to let them live quite comfortably. Even with two children who seemed determined to eat the very hair off their parents' heads. Any given day. A third child would not really make much of a difference.

No, money was not a good reason. Even considering the cost to get all three of them through college. If they actually all went to college. But they could cross that bridge when they came to it.

Chandler sighed, scowled again and then wrote 'Jack &amp; Erica – feelings'. And stopped again, tapping the pencil against his teeth.

What would the two of them think about a new baby? Would they feel threatened? Insecure? Jealous actually? They were nine now. Dear god, nine years, and he still remembered them as newborn babies that Monica and he had held in their arms – no need to fight, or trade places, because there had been two, one for each of them, thus quite unexpectedly doubling their happiness all at once just when they thought they were already as happy as they could ever be.

Would they really be jealous? He wasn't sure, but thought rather not. On the whole they were quite sensible kids. Not quite a year ago Monica and he had had to tell them that they were adopted. Monica hadn't wanted to tell them so early – he suspected that given the choice she would have opted for never telling them ever – but when the two of them found the photo album from spring 2004 with the photos of Erica's visit in New York in them, the photo album that Monica had thought she'd hidden so well, the questions could not be dodged any longer and the truth came out. It had taken a lot of explaining and reassuring, a crazy amount of tears and anxieties, and an unbelievable lot of cuddling and spoiling, but in the end they had accepted it. And later quite forgotten about it. At least he thought so.

Would a baby change that, jeopardize that hard won equilibrium again? He didn't think so, but how could anyone ever be sure about something like this? The twins had always been unpredictable, from the very day they were born when it turned out that instead of one baby they would get two. He still remembered that shock after the doctor's casual announcement after Jack's birth that it was now his sister's turn. And his panic tantrum and Monica's matter of fact determination that left him feeling quite embarrassed for even daring to voice his concerns.

So, a question mark there too. Two cons and now there was no way around the one he had managed to avoid so far. The hardest one, the one that really could be a deal breaker. Sighing he wrote it on the pad: Health.

Monica's health. And not just physical. Actually, her physical health wasn't really an issue. She was 43 now, well into the dodgy area where pregnancies were concerned, but she was also very fit and still as strong as a horse, much better prepared for a pregnancy than a lot of other women he knew. Even now when she was still recovering from that food poisoning she had contracted last month and that had hospitalized her for two weeks with heavy antibiotics. She was at home again now, still plagued by infrequent attacks of fever, but well on her way to recovery, and her doctor was sure there would be no lasting effects.

But what of her mental, her emotional health? How would she fare if it did work, but something went wrong later? If she had a miscarriage? What if there were birth defects? Would she be able stand this, face it, deal with it? Would it break her heart, make her more miserable than before? Wouldn't it be better to spare her all that?

Alright, so he now had three cons. Try as he might he couldn't think of any more. Time to turn to the pros.

As he stared at the still empty column Chandler remembered the infamous pro and con Rachel list again. How the only thing Ross had been able to find that spoke against Julie was the simple fact that she wasn't Rachel.

Yes, it was as simple as this. It was a baby. And he knew that was the only thing that counted. A baby of their own.

She never mentioned it, never showed it openly, but Chandler knew that Monica still wanted a baby. Even after all this time the need had not diminished in any way. If anything it had grown stronger. She still wanted to have a baby just as much as when they had first started trying. He could see it in the way she looked at babies whenever they encountered them, how her expression changed, her whole demeanor, even her body language. It hadn't been quite so obvious when the twins were still small. Until about the time they got old enough for school, Monica had seemed radiantly happy with them. But the older they got, the more she seemed haunted by her old desperate need for babies, or even one baby, just one tiny small baby of her own.

There had been a lot of incidents over the years that clearly demonstrated to him how desperate her craving still was, even if he hadn't already been aware of it. The one that stood out most, that he remembered most clearly was the day one of his colleagues at work told him he and his wife were expecting twins and had asked him if they could spare some of Jack and Erica's baby things. Monica had kept them of course, every little item, all cleaned and carefully and securely packed away in neatly labeled boxes in the attic. It shouldn't have been a problem really, but of course it was, and he really should have known better than to ask her. He had realized that later of course and vowed never to let anything like that happen again. But there they had been, crawling through the attic opening all what seemed like hundreds of boxes and cartons and suitcases, and looking at all the accumulated stuff, and it hadn't taken even ten minutes for Monica to get close to a nervous breakdown. At first he had been too busy to inventory it all – and marveling at how crazy much of it had accumulated – to pay her much attention, until he had handed her a carton with toys and finally noticed that she had started to cry and furtively tried to hide the tears from him. When the realization hit him, he wanted to kick himself. Instead he had quickly (but also carefully) put everything back into the boxes, shut them up and got Monica out of the attic again as fast as he could. Once he got her back in their kitchen for coffee and cookies she had calmed down again, to his intense relief. And just nodded when he suggested to offer his colleague just the twin carriage, and tell him that everything else had been given away long since. Giving the carriage away was alright, if only just. It sounded crazy, but she didn't seem to care that much for it. Apparently she wanted one baby, not two. Or had settled in her mind for one baby. Or maybe a carriage just did not hold quite the sentimental value for her as, say, a whole suitcase filled to the brim with tiny onesies.

So he really had no choice. If there was a chance – a teeny tiny little chance, a chance in a million, like a win in the lottery, even if it was only pure wishful thinking on his part – he had to take it. And to hell with all the pros and cons. They didn't matter. There was no doubt, no question about it. All that mattered was Monica – and that maybe, with a lot of luck, she maybe, probably, possibly, could get pregnant right now.

And because he had realized that there was that chance, that as strange and unrealistic it seemed that right now - and only now - there just might be a way around the double barrier that had prevented them from having children of their own, he had to do it. There was no way he could hold back, or even hesitate. Even against all the staggering odds, plus all the cons he had listed, he simply had to go through with it. Or live the rest of his life asking himself if it could have worked had he only tried. He had to make the effort – and face living with the disappointment and heartbreak when it should turn out that it hadn't worked, even though he had known from the start that the chance to succeed was almost negligible.

He realized now that another reason he wanted to keep it to himself was a kind of possessiveness. It was his idea, his theory, his own project that he had put together himself, a scheme that had suddenly come together in his mind on a long and boring afternoon he had spent in the hospital sitting at Monica's bedside and watching TV while she slept. While he had flipped through the channels that all seemed to show soap reruns and dreary reality TV shows, he had come across a rerun of L. A. Law and remained with it until the ending. And suddenly something in his head had clicked.

Yes, that was it, the rather brittle foundation his theory was based on. The one thing he had going for it. The episode of 'L.A. Law' where Ann Kelsey finally got pregnant that had got him to remember a story that his assistant in Tulsa had once told him, more than 10 years ago.

Jolene.


	2. Jolene's Story

_A/N: Big thanks to all my readers, especially those 6 that sent reviews barely hours after I had posted the story. That's really sooo encouraging, and I can only hope that this story (which still feels a little far out there to me) doesn't disappoint. _

_Btw, if anyone remembers a story/movie/TVshow etc. where something like this actually happened, please tell me, either in your review or by PM. Try as I might I really only remember that damn L A Law episode which, when I rewatched it, was quite different from what I thought it was like, and that really took the wind out of my sails for a while. If there is a better example, I'd be only too happy to use it and work it in. _

_Update: Since apparently a lot of readers haven't recognized Jolene: I really didn't make her up, she's in 'TOW Rachel's Phone no.' right at the beginning (about half of the scene was cut out of the TV version though). I always felt kinda sorry for her and wondered if Chandler ever managed to get her to come around again and show him some more of her cat pictures. _

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Poor, pathetic, dull Jolene, with her big wet doe eyes behind those huge glasses. Sweet, softhearted Jolene with her crazy obsession for cats. Cats of all sizes, ages and races, cats she owned herself (or was owned by as she kept telling him proudly) which were quite a lot – at least a dozen, but it could even have been as much as twenty – and cats owned by friends and acquaintances, cats in shelters that she took care of, and any number of homeless cats that regularly flocked to her door around dinner time. She loved them all equally, adored each and every single one of them, devoted all her spare time to their care, and never let any other affection or duty distract her from them. How she had ended up at her job at the company he used to work for was still a mystery to him. Not because she was a bad assistant – on the contrary, he'd had much worse, before his time in Tulsa and after too – but because she seemed so vulnerable, so hampered and downtrodden all the time, for all appearances quite unfit for her position in that company where the rest of the staff seemed to be constantly bored and frustrated, endlessly preoccupied with office intrigues and moneymaking schemes. And smoking. Her job description really called for someone with iron nerves and complete equanimity to deal with the daily hassle, problems and tediousness, instead of someone apt to cry over a sob story of drowned kittens in a Sunday paper, lock herself in the restroom for hours if someone dared to use one of her kitty mugs, or remain in a huff for a whole week over Monica's pointblank refusal to discuss her cat allergy with her. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned the latter to her in the first place, but it seemed to be the only way for him to get out of adopting one of her kittens she had already tried to thrust on him barely ten minutes after they'd met on his first day in Tulsa.

Actually, they had gotten along quite well nearly all the time. It had been quite a change for him to have an assistant who didn't bully him around or try to put the fear of god into him if he dared to call in sick. Once she managed to get her mind off cats, if only temporarily, she was just helpful, nice and unobtrusive enough to enable him to concentrate on his job, and moreover put up with a lot more of his jokes than all his assistants in New York ever had. He in turn put up with – or at least tried to - a seemingly endless supply of cat photos and stories nearly every morning, and an unbelievable amount of catnip pots on the window sills of his office (she claimed they didn't get enough sun at the window in hers).

Of course he couldn't help mentioning her and her obsession at home, even getting her into some – rather mild for him – jokes, never thinking twice about it, until she overheard Joey calling her his crazy assistant, and as if that wasn't enough already, Monica had to chime in with her "crazy cat lady". She had stormed out of the office and remained in an icy huff all day afterwards, refusing to speak to him even after he apologized over and over. Only on Monday morning, when he presented her with a tin of Monica's best cookies and offered to take her to lunch – and look at as many cat photos she had with her for as long as she wanted - she had thawed again. A little.

That lunch hadn't nearly been as tedious and dull as he'd feared. On the contrary, once she managed to wrench her mind away from cats, she had been quite pleasant company, nice, understanding, unassuming, and most importantly still quite ready to laugh at all of his jokes again. That of course, coupled with his efforts to keep her from talking about cats again, got him to open up and talk about a lot of things he hadn't really wanted to mention. Like the problems his return to smoking had caused at home. And about how much he'd come to hate his office in the Solow Building back in New York, yet had been really sorry about having to vacate it. How ridiculously long it had taken to get rid of all the crap that had accumulated there over the years. And finally, over their coffees, he had even mellowed enough to tell her that he and Monica were trying to start a family.

He had regretted it almost as soon as it was out, even mentally kicked himself for it – what if Monica found out that he shared such intimate information with the crazy cat lady? But as it turned out he needn't have worried. She had been understanding and sympathetic, but not particularly interested. In fact he thought that by that time she was thinking about her cats again and felt relieved. There had been a little pause in which she had stirred her coffee, frowning a little and lost in thought, and then, quite unexpectedly, she had told him the story about her brother and his wife.

Brad, his name had been. For the life of him couldn't recall his – or Jolene's for that matter – last name, but her brother's name had been Brad. How he had gotten married some ten years ago and he and his wife had tried to get pregnant immediately after the wedding. And failed. And kept failing, for nearly seven years. They had tried a lot of things, with a lot of different doctors, but it just hadn't worked. They weren't sure just what was wrong, but apparently there was something in her body chemistry that made it hard for her to conceive. Eventually they hadn't been able to take it anymore and just given up and tried to forget.

"And then they did get pregnant after all?" he had asked, a little absentmindedly, and, truth to tell, also a little impatient, since it was getting late and he still had all those weekly reports to deal with. Jolene had looked rather surprised at that and maybe a little resentful too.

"No, no, not right away. She got sick. I'm not sure what it was, mono I think – anyway, it hit her quite hard, she was even in a hospital for a week or so. Afterwards they went on a long vacation, so she could make a complete recovery. And then she discovered she was pregnant." She stopped, looking at him expectantly, and he felt a bit at a loss.

"Um – so? So she got pregnant on their vacation?"

"No! That's the point! Oh, I see, I forgot to mention that. The point was, when she discovered that she was pregnant, she was already three months gone."

"Oh. That long?"

"Yes! So it must have happened when she was sick or quite soon after. The illness or the medication did something, kinda changed her body chemistry. Just imagine the shock. She couldn't believe it. Neither could he."

"Yeah, that must have been something" he agreed, a bit lamely. "Wow, that's – really unusual. I must remember that."

Of course, he had forgotten the story almost immediately afterwards. Or thought he did. Until that afternoon in Monica's room at the hospital, when he had hit upon that episode of L.A. Law where everybody had the flu, including the Ann Kelsey character who suddenly found herself pregnant – long after she and her husband – that funny little guy who had actually been almost a head smaller than his wife, what had been his name – yes, Stuart, that was it - had given up trying. It was due to him having a low sperm count or maybe it was low motility too, just like himself. But in the end one of his 'lone marines' had made it through. And though the stories were different – she got pregnant before the flu, not during or after – it somehow triggered the memory of the story Jolene told him. And connected the dots in his mind and made the idea emerge.

So here he was, in a quite similar situation, except that he was now aware of the chance and able to act on it. Monica had been very sick, to the point where even she could no longer deny it, let alone fight it, so sick actually that she had needed a load of antibiotics and had been hospitalized for two weeks. At the beginning of the second week she had gone on her period, rather unexpectedly for once, and much to her dismay. She had almost been in hysterics when a little blood had gotten on the bedsheet, and tried to persuade him to smuggle the sheet out of the hospital to get it cleaned somewhere, just so the nurses wouldn't notice. He had compromised by smuggling the sheet out of the room and into a laundry cart that stood near the elevators when nobody was nearby, and once they had put a new sheet on her bed Monica had calmed down again. That had been exactly 15 days ago and he was quite certain that she was about to start ovulating today. She had always been proud of the fact that her cycle was always absolutely regular, like clockwork. Back during that year when they had tried to conceive – could it really be ten years already? - all the ovulation sticks and temperature taking and other gadgets had always only served to confirm what she was already sure of. And because she had been – and still was - so regular, it had been easy for him to figure out the crucial date. Although on some level he had always been very much aware of her cycle and how it affected her mood. After fifteen years together he could recognize the signs that told him she was heading for a low well enough to know just how much she needed to be seriously distracted or only cheered up a little. And because in the first four years of their relationship they had used protection – and been very careful about that too – he had developed a sort of sixth sense about her biorhythm. Of course they hadn't known then that all that fuss with the condoms and the diaphragm she used almost religiously would have made no difference. At least he preferred to think that it hadn't – if somehow he would learn that they would have gotten pregnant if only they had started some years earlier, it would just hurt too much.

So tonight was the night. The night he would give it a shot, knowing that the probability that it would fail, that all the effort would be for nothing, that it wouldn't work, was very high, almost certain. It could very well all just be a wild-goose chase, a fool's dream. There were still so many unknown factors. For one he couldn't be sure that the illness had really changed her body chemistry or if it even affected her uterus in such a way it became temporarily hospitable. Then he could really only hope that it hadn't affected her cycle by delaying or even suspending her ovulation. And last but not least he didn't even know if his sperm's motility had improved in the last nine years or if he was still as sterile as he used to be. True, he was living a much healthier life these days, and he hadn't touched a cigarette since the day the twins had been born. But for all he knew it could still turn out not to be enough. Yes, even if everything turned out the way he hoped, it could still be all in vain.

And yet, even with all those odds against him, it was still so worth a shot.

So much.


	3. Fever and Ice

When Chandler opened the door of his home in Westchester, the noise that had been no more than a muffled thudding from the street suddenly increased in volume – and clarity – almost tenfold, making him wince. Right, it was Thursday, which was the day Erica had designated for her guitar practice. It made sense since her lessons were on Fridays, when what she had been practicing would still be fresh in her mind. And actually he was glad that she did practice. As her teacher had assured him, it was quite a feat for a kid that age. Most of his other students could never really be bothered to practice. While that made him quite proud he still wished that Erica had chosen an instrument that wasn't quite so loud. And pervading. And that didn't cause the whole house to shake and vibrate as if it was on the verge of collapsing. But she hadn't really liked the classical guitar lessons her teacher had insisted on and had switched joyfully to e-guitar as soon as she could, much to his – and their neighbors' - dismay.

After the first shock had worn off he actually recognized the riff and grinned broadly. It was 'Summer of 69' and it really sounded as if she was nailing it at last. And liked it too, which wasn't bad for a song more than twice her age.

He took off his coat, put down his briefcase and laptop bag, and checked in the living-room and kitchen, just to find them deserted. Then he remembered that Jack was still at soccer practice. Monica usually took him there, but since her illness the parents of one of Jack's team buddies had immediately taken over her soccer mom duties, faithfully driving by to pick Jack up every time and deliver him home again afterwards. It was just one of many examples of how naturally and unquestioningly their friends, work colleagues, neighbors and even casual acquaintances all immediately had pitched in to help them out in any way they could until Monica would be up and running again under her own steam. Of course Monica had done that too, and many other things, for practically everybody around, from the very day they had settled in Westchester, but it still never failed to amaze him how helpful and kind everybody was.

There was a note on the kitchen stove and another on the fridge, both with detailed instructions about the casserole Monica had prepared for their dinner and Chandler couldn't help grinning as he read them. It was so Monica, leaving nothing to chance, especially to prevent them from just ordering pizza again. When she had been in the hospital they'd more or less all lived almost on pizza alone, and they definitely could do with a change – especially since they must have eaten their way through the whole menu of the pizza company already by now. Twice.

After a short – and blessedly quiet – pause Erica started the play-along CD up again and blasted her way into the song once more. She hated to be interrupted at guitar practice – as opposed to interruptions during say, her homework, or household chores – so he went up the stairs to check on Monica.

He found her in their bedroom, in bed, wearing only a thin chemise and panties – all she could bear on her during her fever attacks - and with just a thin sheet to cover her. The bedside lamp was burning and there was a magazine next to her pillow, but it had slipped from her hand when she had nodded off. Her reading glasses too had come awry and now hung on her face at a crazy angle. She didn't wake when he took them off her, but stirred uneasily when he tried to adjust the sheet and cover her a bit more. Then her eyes opened and she smiled at him.

"Hi, honey. What time is it?"

He sat on the bed and bent over to kiss her. That close to her he could actually feel the heat from her fever on his face. Her lips felt dry and there were rosy spots on her cheeks. "Hi. Around seven. Sorry, but I had to work late again. Everything okay? Got a fever again?"

"Mmh." She grimaced. "I was down to 99.5 this morning. Didn't last long though. And then I got so sleepy …"

"I know. Shh. You should get some more sleep."

"Mmmh – the kids?"

"Practice. Jack's at soccer and Erica's at advanced torture. Can you really sleep through this?"

She just smiled. "I guess the fever's making me deaf too. To be honest, I don't really notice it anymore. She's getting better though, isn't she?"

"Yeah. That's what her teacher says anyway. I don't hear it. Not anymore."

She cuffed him and settled back, closing her eyes again.

"There's anything you need? Are you hungry? Will you come down to dinner?"

"I'm too sleepy. But there's a casserole –"

"I know."

"You just need to –"

"I know."

"And don't let –"

"them order pizza again. I know." She opened her eyes to glare at him and then sighed and closed them again. Chandler gently kissed her again, just brushing his lips across hers – when she felt this hot she hated to be touched more than necessary – and got up to put his suit jacket and tie away, then he got a sweater out of the closet, unobtrusively taking a pair of his pajamas out at the same time. He closed the door silently behind him and went downstairs again to their office, picking up his briefcase and laptop when he passed the hallway.

In the office he got out the cooler box from under his desk and put the pajamas in, stacking them between the thermal packs and adding a small tube he'd brought in his briefcase. It contained lubricating gel he'd gotten in the pharmacy earlier and he couldn't help chuckling when he remembered the face of the pharmacist after he'd asked her if the stuff would prevent a pregnancy. Only when she asked if he had never heard of condoms he realized how idiotic it must have sounded. Still, as embarrassing that had been, it had been worth it, if just to be sure that it wouldn't interfere in any way with Monica getting pregnant.

Maybe it would even help.

He put the cooler box back under his desk and left the office again. It was almost time for Jack to get home and Erica now actually started to sound as if she was wrapping it up. Time to get the casserole ready. Or order the pizza.

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By the time the twins were in bed, the kitchen and living-room tidied up – well, not really Monica-tidy but at least Chandler-tidy – and everything secured, it was almost 11. He got the cooler bag out of his office and took it up the stairs with him, to the bathroom to take a shower. Just before finishing he turned the water to nearly cold and afterwards took great care not to towel himself too hard. At last he took out the cooled pajamas from the box and put them on, clenching his teeth to keep from chattering.

When he entered their bedroom again, he found that Monica had turned on his bedside lamp and switched off hers. She was lying on her side, with her back to the light, and as he could tell by her breathing, fast asleep. At some point she had kicked the sheet off again until it just covered her feet and shins. Chandler put the cooler box on the floor within easy reach, and took out a wash-cloth which he put on his hand, grinning wryly at it. He would so much have preferred to use the sock bunny for this, that silly little hand-puppet that had enriched their sex life for so long before Jack and Erica had come into their lives. But unfortunately Jack had found it in the laundry one day and still refused to part with it, so it was lost to them, and thus the wash-cloth had to do for now.

Chandler turned the covers on his side all the way down and cautiously got on the bed, slowly scooting over to her. For a moment he just looked at her, then he lay down close to her and gathered her to him in his arms, nestling closely against her and pressing against her back and legs. Almost at once he felt the heat from her body push against his ice-cold pajamas and, for a moment at least, actually recede. Monica groaned softly as she woke up, reluctantly turning her head to him, then, as she felt the cold, her eyes flew open and she almost wriggled out of his arms. For a moment her breath hitched and she moaned softly, but then just as quickly she breathed in deeply and relaxed again, actually pressing against him greedy for the coolness. He pushed one knee between her legs, keeping his hips pressed as close to her buttocks as possible, and slid his hand in the cold wash-cloth up her waist and under the chemise to caress her breasts. She twitched a little again and then sighed almost dreamily, clasping his hand to her stomach. It could have been his imagination, but already she seemed a bit cooler to him, and when he kissed her gently on the neck and cheekbone she actually shivered.

"Ummm … mmmh … wha.. whatarr yooodoooo-ng?"

"Shh."

"Mmm … feelsgoooooodd … sooo cool …"

"Yeah? Feeling better now?"

"Mmh. So nice." She shifted her hips slightly, pressing back against him and he answered her move by slowly rubbing himself against her. To his vast relief he found then that neither his apprehension nor the freezing pajamas had managed to prevent him from getting turned on, as he had feared. Quite on the contrary. And when he tightened his arms around her even more and pushed her hip gently against him, she finally caught on. It made her breathe just a little harder and slide an inquiring hand along her back between them down his groin, as if to make sure.

"Um … oh sweetie ... really? Now?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so …" he tried to say it as casual as possible, but his voice sounded strained in his ears. She frowned a little.

"But I don't know if I can –"

"Shh. It's alright. Just let me … please? I missed you so much." He started to massage her nipples with his fingertips through the wash-cloth in just the way she had never been able to resist, kissing her again on her neck in the hollow just below her ear and nibbling on her shoulder. Monica held herself still, almost as if she was holding her breath, and then relaxed again, much to his relief.

"Me too." Her voice was almost inaudible. "I missed you too. And I want you too … but …"

"Sh. It's okay. I'll take care of it."

He slowly pushed up the chemise over her back and then her breasts, inch by inch, until it was bunched up at her armpits and he had to get her to lift her arms so he could take it off her. She sank back against him immediately, her eyes closing as if the lids were too heavy to keep apart, but her body was still responding to his caresses, though very slowly. And as tired as she was, it still seemed to worry her.

"Um … sorry … so sleepy …"

"Shh. It's okay. You can sleep, I don't mind." She actually chuckled weakly at that, desperately trying to open her eyes and failing. He kept stroking and fondling her, letting his hand wander down to her navel and groin, and then slowly and gently started to push her panties down.

As soon as that had been accomplished he took a moment to get out of his pajamas and the wash-cloth, which had lost all their chilliness and had in fact been getting too warm for him. Monica turned a little more until she was almost lying on her back, weakly lifted one arm and put her hand on his shoulder as he started to go down on her. He noticed that her fever was coming back, the heat coming at him from her body in waves. But still she kept reacting to him as she always had all those thousands of times they had made love in the past, every single time, even when she had been half asleep – or completely, like at that memorable time when he'd been unable to sleep after Ross had made them stay up for that damn meteor. Still, even that time had not been wasted. None of their times had ever really been wasted.

He forced himself to go slow, even though a part of him pushed and screamed at him to hurry up and get it over with, get his sperm into her as fast as it would go, as much as possible too, and drown her uterus in it. Another part though wanted to draw this out and enjoy it as long as possible, even at the risk of Monica falling asleep for good. That didn't matter really, it wasn't her fault after all, and actually it could be a great help for all he knew. Anyway he wanted to make sure she had an orgasm first, and until that was achieved, everything else had to wait.

So he went up on her again and spent a long while concentrating on kissing and caressing her breasts and neck, holding her to him with one arm and hand, while sliding his other hand slowly over her waist and hips, stroking and caressing her buttocks and thighs. When she sluggishly parted her legs, inviting his hand in, he only brushed his fingertips across her vulva at first, gently feeling his way in. She felt hot there too, much too hot, as he had suspected. Even tonguing her would not help much. But he had prepared for that case, hadn't he?

When his fingers liberally smeared with chilled lubricant slid into her, she jerked and screamed softly, and even managed to open her eyes for a few seconds at least. Then she sank back again and moaned softly, squirming slowly as he pushed deeper, teasing and circling her clitoris with the tip of his thumb at the same time, kissing her again and again as she squirmed and feebly tried to pull him down. Finally her breath sped up and she started to shudder uncontrollably, clenching around his fingers and screaming softly. Without taking his hand away he hurriedly smeared more of the gel on his penis with his other hand, wincing at the cold sliminess. Then quickly, before it could turn him off too much, he held her against him with one hand under her shoulders and the other under her buttocks and slid into her, pressing his face against her neck. And oh sweet Moses, she felt so hot. For a moment he hesitated, wondering just how high her fever actually was and if it could be too high, actually dangerous? But then she moaned and panted, moving against him, her legs wrapping around him and he started thrusting almost by pure instinct, slowly and gently at first, then getting faster and more urgent. At first it really felt the way it did every time they made love, until he opened his eyes and saw that hers were squeezed shut again, and she didn't hold on to him as tight as before. Still he soldiered on, pounding into her, trying to breathe deeply and hold off his climax as long as possible. At last, when he was almost on the verge, shudders wrecking through him and making him tingle all over, he felt her tense and stiffen around him. He drew a deep breath and let go, giving it all he had, his eyes squeezed shut, his features contorting crazily into what he thought had to be his most horrible sex face ever (and boy was he glad she did not get to see this one), and concentrating all his fervent hope and belief into it as his release hit and he felt his sperm leave him, the words 'please please please' repeating over and over in his brain.

Please let it work. Come on you guys, this is it! Come on, get up for me this once, move your asses out of those barcaloungers and get going! Get a move on! Take a swim out there! Now is the time! Now or never! If you get a move up and make it to the right place, there's a nice sweet little eggy just waiting for you and longing for you to dig and melt into it. Mmmh, such a nice yummy pretty egg, who wouldn't want that? It's the best there is! Just go for it! Hurry up before it's too late! You can do it! GoGoGo! Come on! Come ON! COME ON!

He got so caught up in his fantasy of rooting for his sperm cells that instead of relaxing he started thrusting again without even noticing at first. When he finally did, he couldn't stop himself, even though he was sweating freely by now, feeling the strain increase with every move. After some minutes of this he had to let go of her and clench his fingers into the mattress instead, panting heavily while he kept on thrusting at her. When his second climax finally rolled over him, he almost fainted, slumping bonelessly over her and almost crushing her under him. For a long time he remained like this, his face pressed against her shoulder, while his breath slowly got back to normal and the sweat dried on his skin. When at last Monica stirred a little and made a small plaintive sound, he reluctantly heaved himself up on his knees and elbows, and then put his face against her belly, brushing his lips over the area just under her navel.

Was that it? Had he done it? He couldn't be sure, and he knew that it would actually be quite some time until he could be. Also it wouldn't hurt to back up this first effort at least once more, or several times actually, if not still this night, then definitely the next morning before getting up and maybe once more tomorrow night. Just for safety really. The more sperm he could pump into her, the better were the chances of maybe a dozen or a couple or even only one out of all those millions of sperm cells actually making it through. Please god, just one teeny tiny sperm cell, one lone marine storming the beach.

Just one little tough cookie. Was that really too much to ask?


	4. The Waiting Part 1

**Day 1**

When he woke up it was still early, about half an hour before the alarm. Monica wasn't there, but just before he could get worried he heard the door of the bathroom open and shut again. Then she returned to the bedroom, took off her bathrobe again and got back into bed. When he reached out for her, she snuck into his arms and settled against him, sighing contentedly. She was still as naked as he was, and her skin didn't feel so hot anymore. When he checked her forehead and made an inquiring sound, she laughed softly.

"98.8. It's gone down again." She snuggled closer, searching for his mouth and they kissed rather languidly. Then she turned around to spoon against him, resting her head on his arm while he wrapped his other arm around her. Just when he considered making a move, she said conversationally: "You know, I had the weirdest dream …"

"Ah-hmh ..?"

"Yeah. I dreamt that an ice monster came and had sex with me. He was ice cold and slimy and it felt so good."

"Well I guess even ice monsters like it hot sometimes."

She giggled. "I was really hot. That was some cure."

"You're still hot. You'll always be hot to me." He turned without letting go of her and reached for the cooler bag where he had deposited the gel again after its use. "But I think the cure is not quite completed yet. It definitely needs some more treatments."

She giggled again, but caught his hand when he cupped her breast.

"Oh sweetie, do we really have the time?"

He unscrewed the cap of the gel tube and smeared his fingers once more.

"When it's ice monster sex? We'll make the time."

**Day 2**

Chandler hummed cheerfully under his breath as he took the used thermal packs out of the bag and put them in the fridge, exchanging them for new ones. It was too early, way too early for any speculation, let alone expectation, but he just couldn't help feeling a tiny little bit … optimistic. Because so far everything had gone really well, even better than he had expected. Monica's fever had still not come back, ever since their first ice monster sex round her temperature hadn't got any higher than 99 and now it had returned to almost normal again. And though they technically didn't need the gel any more, he could tell that she loved it. At least she seemed determined to use up the whole tube, provided it was kept cold, and of course he was all in favor of that. He was getting quite used to it too. And after all, even if it occasionally felt like it, it wasn't like that slimy ice-cold stuff would do any lasting damage. At least he hoped so.

**Day 3**

It was Sunday which meant they could sleep in – or better, sleep a little longer than on weekdays where an extra half hour had to be allowed for just for getting the kids routed and cajoled out of bed and ready in time for the school bus. When they had been much younger, Jack and Erica used to get up at all sorts of ungodly hours on the weekends, playing quietly with their lego if they were lucky, or storming their parents' bedroom if not - but lately they too had started to appreciate the joys of snoozing that extra hour, or two, or however long they felt like, on their free days. Plus they had had quite an exhausting day at a friend's birthday party the day before, and had fallen into their beds almost as soon as they'd arrived back home. It could be hours before they stirred. Monica too was still asleep, she was still sleeping a lot more nowadays than she used to. He thought it would probably take some more weeks until she returned to her former energetic untiring self, the one that was capable of running two miles and completing ten sit-ups on a Sunday morning before breakfast - and he was absolutely fine with that. Sundays were for lazing and lying around. Well, first of all that was. Of course the lying around could include some other things too …

But just as he scooted closer to her, Monica sighed and turned around in her sleep, away from him. And when he tried to spoon against her, she made that particular low warning grunt that told him she wanted to be left alone a few more minutes, so he backed off and decided to let her have a few more winks, contenting himself by just resting his hand on her stomach for the time being. This was Sunday after all. They had plenty of time.

**Day 4**

After they had gone at it one more time he spooned against Monica once again, silently talking to her uterus in his mind, while he rested his hand lightly on her belly. Or rather, talking to the tiny lump of cells he fervently hoped had lodged in there by now. The tiny little tough cookie.

**Day 5**

Whenever he thought back to that time over a decade ago when they had first tried to get pregnant, the memories made him wince or at least shake his head. Back then it had been mostly Monica who had actively worked on it, determinately concentrated all her will and energy into the process, giving it all she had. Now he wished that he himself had worked harder at it, supported her more. True, it had been a hard year, with him away in Tulsa half the time and without a job and at loose ends the other half. But that did not excuse how he had always avoided even thinking about making a baby while they tried, just because he had vaguely feared it could prove to be too distracting. He had always assumed that doing it, go through the motions, supplying the sperm whenever he was told to, would be enough to make a pregnancy happen, and that it was no use worrying about it until they knew that it had worked. He had always let Monica call the shots with everything that concerned getting pregnant, letting her determine the place and time, the schedule, even the positions, while his job was just to provide the sperm. As soon as it was over he usually managed to push the thought of a pregnancy out of his mind, telling himself that actively waiting and hoping for two weeks only to have it turn out to be in vain would only discourage him from trying again. And again. As long as it took.

No wonder really it hadn't worked.

**Day 6**

It was much too early, but Chandler had already begun to check Monica's boxes of tampons and pads in their bathroom cabinet almost obsessively every morning. Normal size tampons: three and a half layers, 3 tampons on the top layer. Super tampons: 2 layers, with 1 tampon missing in the top layer. The pads: still 6 left in the box. He even considered writing it down or making a photo of each box and then grabbed his head and groaned. He was getting as badly obsessed as Monica. Maybe even worse.

**Day 7**

He was haunted by memories these days, they kept surfacing at all kinds of occasions, at home, at work, playing with the twins, driving his car, in bed – anywhere, at any given time.

He remembered accusing Monica of having "baby fever". It had been still early in their relationship, they'd just been found out and in hindsight he realized that he should have been better prepared for Rachel's unthinking assumption. Instead he had walked right into it, had let himself be scared by issues that on closer inspection turned out to be wholly imaginary and laughable, or even non-existent. He had kept making the same mistake over and over again: letting some vague fear assume oversized proportions and then panicking when he should have trusted his common sense and experience. Yes, Monica wanted babies, had at one time even considered getting impregnated via a sperm bank, but she had abandoned the idea again after Joey – Joey of all people - had made her realize that a baby alone could not give her what she really wanted: a family. And that that was something she had to work for, build up carefully, without rushing it, making sure of every step, and ultimately it had indeed been something worth waiting for. So she had waited and patiently worked at it, while he preferred living for the day and pushing all thoughts about the future away. Consequently he was continually scared by disasters and failures that somehow kept looming and threatening him unless he resorted to some hasty, unreflective action – like running away – or some serious thinking and then bravely facing his fears, which usually made them vanish immediately, leaving him relieved - and nearly always pretty embarrassed too.

**Day 8**

Or take the day Phoebe got them to take care of the triplets with her and he had kept making a fuss and tried to get out of everything, even though he had enjoyed holding and cuddling his little namesake much more than he'd wanted to admit at the time. Thank god he'd had no way of knowing what had been in store for him then – his old self that had panicked at the mere thought of having to handle a soiled diaper would probably have left chandler-shaped holes throughout the whole building in his wake.

**Day 9**

The final eye-opener had come on the day he had brought his colleague home to present him as a potential sperm donor to Monica, as if he could compensate for his infertility by finding a replacement. When Monica had calmly refused this option and declared that she wanted to get pregnant with his child or not at all, it had completely thrown him. And finally made him realize that commitment to fatherhood didn't begin with the birth or even conception and that it entailed so much more than just the donation of the sperm.

He had succeeded in getting back their child when it had already seemed lost to them, he had convinced Erica how vitally important her baby was to them. And now he had to convince himself that he would succeed with this too, and how vitally important this was. Not just for Monica, but also for himself.

**Day 10**

Way too early still, but he just couldn't help it:

Normal tampons: no change. Super tampons: no change. Pads: no change.

So far so good.

**Day 11**

The nightmare of that first car drive to Westchester with the twins in the backseat of the Porsche. Somehow Monica had not been able to bring herself to sell it and exchange it for a family car until then. But when they had finally wrenched themselves away from their last coffee round in Central Perk and started out for their new home, it turned out they had left it too long and now had to deal with the madness of the rush-hour traffic. And right when they were good and stuck in the middle of the bridge, with cars honking and screeching all around them, the twins had woken up and started to holler the roof down. Monica had been driving and nearly caused a multi crash when she stopped the car to check on them, only to find that she couldn't quite reach them in the confined space. After they had switched seats she had nearly gone ballistic as she hung over the front seat and tried reaching far enough to at least touch the babies in their baby buckets to soothe them. Needless to say they wouldn't be soothed. By the time they had made it off the bridge and gotten off at the exit to a side street, he quite felt like hollering the roof down too.

They sold the Porsche the next day. And never missed it.

**Day 12**

Jack and Judy's spontaneous 'surprise' visit on their third day in their new house, when most of their furniture was still missing or not at its right place and Monica had been getting dangerously close to a nervous breakdown. Luckily he had come back from work just in time to intercept his in-laws at their front door and steer them to the big yard where Jack immediately pounced on the big barbecue and happily kept himself and Judy busy with it until Monica had calmed down enough to face them. And after a couple of chardonnays Judy had been in no condition to poke her usual criticism at them anymore. In the end he'd even had to help Jack carry her to their car.

After that there had been no more surprise visits from them. That he knew of.

**Day 13**

Time was running out. Only three days left until he would either know that it hadn't worked or continue to hope. 31 days, that was the magic number, the length of her cycle. Always had been, no matter what. In all the time they had used protection, it hadn't been off once, never given them a single cause for worry. And later, when they had tried to get pregnant, they had always known for sure by the 31. day – by early morning of the 31. day - that it hadn't worked. Again.

He still wondered how Monica had been able to cope with that. Every single time, for more than a year.

**Day 14**

Every time he remembered how he had fooled around with her ovulation sticks and pregnancy tests, he dearly wished he could travel back in time and give his 2003 self a really good solid kick in the ass.

**Day 15**

In all the time since they had started on their new life in Westchester, all through those nine years they had never actively tried to get pregnant again. Or if Monica had tried, he hadn't noticed. After the first hectic year where they had usually been too tired and stressed for more than some intense cuddling their sex-life had pretty much settled back to their usual 2 – 3 times a week, give or take the occasional spikes. He thought it was possible that Monica had tried to get him to do it more often around her ovulating periods, but couldn't really tell for sure. If so she had never mentioned it, or even let him notice. And for himself the subject had been off the table. Though good old Dr. Connelly hadn't actually ruled out a pregnancy for them per se, he had been pretty much convinced that it was impossible. Had actually preferred to think that it was. Somehow, as bleak as it was, it had seemed much better than to continue hoping – and blaming himself if it failed.

Until now.

**Day 16**

He woke rather early with a start, suddenly jerked out of his sleep and marveling that he had been able to fall asleep at all. He didn't know what had woken him. Not Monica, she was still in bed beside him, fast asleep. He guessed that it must have been his inner restlessness. Or maybe his bladder.

He got up and went to the bathroom to pee. After he'd finished and washed his hands he straightened and looked at himself in the mirror.

Those nine years had definitely left their mark. There were lines there that hadn't existed or at least not shown as clearly as now, and some saggy places, but the biggest change was his hair. He hadn't lost any of it, for which he was quite grateful, but had been a little disconcerted when it had started to turn grey seemingly overnight a year ago. It didn't look bad, by no means, actually it went quite well with his blue eyes which was a comfort. But dear god, where did the time go? If it turned out that he had succeeded and that little tough cookie was actually on the way, by the time the kid would be old enough to drink his dad would be ready to retire from work. What had he been thinking?

Well, it was too late now for second thoughts. He took a deep breath and cautiously opened the cabinet for his daily check.

He was just peeking at the normal tampons when the door opened and Monica came in, startling him so bad he nearly knocked the box from the shelf. For a moment they stared at each other and her eyes, which had been about two thirds gummed shut from sleep now opened fully as she frowned at him.

"Hey, sweetie, what's up? Are you looking for something?"

He swallowed and shut the door hastily. "Nnno – no, I'm good. Everything's okay. Just had to – you know. Well. Um, not in there though. Of course not." He realized that he was babbling and shut up with an effort. Monica just looked at him searchingly and then yawned.

"Right. Me too. So … if you would be so good …?"

"Yeah. Yes, of course." He hastily beat a retreat. Back in their bed he checked the time – over an hour to go until the alarm – and lay back again, closing his eyes and trying his best to calm down. That Monica had gotten up so early didn't mean a thing. In all probability she had really just needed to pee, like him. Nothing more.

But if so, what was taking her so long? How long had it been? A minute? Three minutes? Five? Shouldn't he ... but no, there she was, getting back into bed, reaching over him to check the alarm just like he had and laying back with a contented sigh. In the past nine years they had learned to treasure even mere half hours of sleep. As she settled down again Chandler was tempted to scoot up to her and spoon, but he knew he still had to check those damn tampon boxes again. There was just no way around it. No matter how it turned out. Better really to get it behind him.

When he got up again, Monica just made a half protesting, half inquiring sound, but didn't stir. He just grunted something in reply – not that they really needed actual words in situations like this after fifteen years together – and went to the bathroom once more, lips pressed together and teeth clenched. Then he stood in front of the cabinet again, trying to breathe deeply and still his hammering heart.

Right, this was it. Normal size tampons: three and a half layers, 3 tampons on the top layer. No change. Super tampons: 2 layers, with 1 tampon missing in the top layer. No change. The pads: still 6 left in the box. No change.

No change.

Chandler stared at the boxes for a minute longer, then he breathed in deeply and closed the door of the cabinet. Right. It really didn't mean anything. There could be all kinds of reasons why she hadn't gone on her period in the night. It could just have been delayed due to the illness and the fever, or even suspended. Or it might come a little later that day. It was really still too early to get his hopes up. Way too early. He wasn't out of the woods yet, not by a long way.

That was what he tried to tell himself over and over on his way back to bed, to Monica's side, as he settled down at his accustomed place at her back, spooning against her and wrapping his arm around her. Way too early, and a long long way to go yet. At least two weeks more, or better yet a month. A month where anything could still happen.

But as his hand stole down to her belly once more and he gently stroked her skin just under her navel with the edge of his thumb, he couldn't help smiling.

Hey there, little tough cookie. How yooou doin'?!


	5. The Waiting Part 2

_A/N: Sorry for the delay – I was on vacation for a week without computer and no time for writing anyway. And yes, I'm afraid this chapter is rather angsty, even more than the last one, and more than I intended it to be, but I promise it will get better now. I still don't really know how far I can and will take this – I've no experience with pregnancies and kids whatsoever and have to make everything up as I go – but I promise that there will be a birth. Eventually._

_Also, for those who told me they needed/expected Monica to be more involved, I'm afraid that's not how I planned it. This is Chandler's story, and his alone._

**.**

**.**

**Week 3, day 17 – 21**

All through the third week after what he hoped had been the actual conception of the little tough cookie (though he knew it could have happened much later – **IF** it had happened at all) Chandler felt great, grinning-goofily-and-dancing-on-the-table great. Every morning that passed without Monica going on her period added to that elation and he tried to concentrate on that feeling of joy and not let anything get in the way of it, though he knew that he still couldn't be sure it would continue to work out. A lot of pregnancies ended in the first four weeks, almost as soon as they had begun and often without the woman even noticing, if the tiny lump of cells – it wasn't even a fetus at that stage – would for some reason or other not attach itself to the uterus wall. There was still a good chance that all his hope and efforts would end in blood and tears. Would literally go down the drain, and there would be nothing he could do about it.

Still he simply felt good about it all. It just looked really great. The first hurdle had been taken, was already past, when he had truly believed that he would never even get that far. That had to count for something.

**Week 4, day 22 – 28**

It wasn't until the fourth week (actually the sixth week according to the way the doctors calculated the length of a pregnancy) that the first misgivings started to surface and supplant his optimism.

First came the guilt. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that his decision not to involve her had been wrong – or at least not quite right. By not telling her he had taken all power of decision from her, denied her the chance to decide for herself. And such a major decision too, one that affected her life as much as his or even more. And he had let her have no say in it. Even worse: all things considered he had manipulated her, tricked her into his scheme without asking for her consent or even opinion. Even though his intentions had been good – a false hope would have affected her much worse than him – that did not change the fact that he had taken everything upon himself, on the pure assumption that he knew better what was good for her – for them – than she.

If it had been the other way round, if she had hit upon this idea and decided to try and get pregnant without telling him, how would he have felt about it, if he found out about the deception? He who had once sulked for hours just because Monica had only pretended to make up so they could have sex, and taken up the fight again afterwards just when he thought everything was forgiven and forgotten. And compared to this it had really been a minor deception. Just a trick really.

There was only one way for him to go really – she must never ever find out about it. No matter how badly he would want her to know that it had been his feat, his accomplishment, he could never let her find out about it.

Once the guilt had been resolved or at least contained, the fear came next. One dreadful scenario after the other of things that could go wrong kept finding its way into his thoughts. It began with tubal pregnancy, a concept that popped into his mind quite suddenly one morning in the bathroom after one more successful check of the tampon boxes. There he was, standing in front of the mirror and watching his eyes widen in shock as he remembered Phoebe telling them that a friend of hers had suffered a tubal pregnancy just after she had discovered that she was pregnant. A couple of days of joy, happy anticipation and then, wham, severe pains and bleeding, hospitalization, operation, and all chances to get pregnant again reduced by half. Chandler swallowed heavily as he realized that his wonderful plan, his genius scheme to get Monica pregnant and thus make her happy could very well backfire and cause her severe pain and loss instead. How would he be able to live with that?

And if it wasn't tubal pregnancy, there were a whole lot more things that could go wrong. She could have a miscarriage. Or an accident that resulted in a miscarriage. The baby could choke on its own umbilical cord. Or it could be twins and one of them would absorb the other and would be born with an extra leg or arm sticking out of it somewhere. Or they could be Siamese twins joined at the hip or chest or worse at the head even where they could never be separated again …

Yup, there was no doubt about it, he definitely watched too much TV.

At least that's what he tried to tell himself over and over, every morning after he'd checked the boxes in the cabinet, and then returned to bed to cuddle and spoon with Monica, with his hand firmly attached to her belly again as if drawn there by a magnet. It was no use getting upset over things that might or might not happen. He had to take it as it came. And take care of Monica as well as he could.

And right there the next set of misgivings presented themselves. If it had worked, if she really had gotten pregnant, how would she react if she found out? Would she really be as wonderfully, blissfully happy as he had imagined? How could he be really sure about what she wanted? Maybe she had resigned by now, was trying to free herself of her need for a baby and focus on her family and her work instead. Maybe now that the twins were older she had been thinking of going back to fulltime work, or change her career, try out new things. She hadn't mentioned anything definite – or at least he thought she hadn't – but you never knew with Monica, she definitely wasn't the type that just floated through life taking things as they came. The shock of finding herself pregnant would be even greater if she had her new life already planned out in her mind. Of course, a baby would get her to cheerfully abandon everything and make all new plans, he was pretty sure of that. But it was possible – not really likely with her, but still – that she would then start to entertain the same doubts and fears that he had had, and probably even more of them and more intense. Maybe she would also doubt herself, her ability to go through a pregnancy at her age, would maybe even feel too old for a baby.

He considered talking to her about it and try to find out if and what she had planned for their future, but couldn't go through with it. It got harder and harder for him to hide his preoccupation from her as it was, since he simply wasn't used to keep anything secret from Monica for long and he was only too much aware that she could see through him as if he was made of glass once she put her mind to it. So there was virtually nothing he could do about it until it happened. Until she found out by herself. Nothing but wait. And hope for the little tough cookie to make itself felt before long, before he went crazy with worry. Before it started to show and let Monica suspect that something was up.

**Week 5, day 29 – 35**

Still another week of no changes with her tampons or pads, and by now it seemed to him that Monica was gradually starting to notice some changes in his behavior around her. He could tell by the way she looked at him sometimes, searchingly or just mildly curious whenever he went out of his way to help her with the household chores or managing the twins' extensive schedules, arrived too early from work or would decide to work from home much more than he used to. He just hoped that she would put down his extra consideration to her ongoing need to recover from her illness. Even though by her own account she was completely restored to health again.

At all costs he wanted to avoid getting caught checking out the tampon boxes again, so every time he went for his daily check-up he first made sure that she was busy with something else, like preparing breakfast or waking the twins, or on free days, still asleep. That wasn't really a problem anymore. He was getting worried though that eventually she would wonder about his unvarying need to cuddle and spoon with her every morning before getting up and again every night before they went to sleep. They certainly had done that a lot in the past, but never with all that regularity that had to appear almost religious to her by now. Especially since all that cuddling and smooching never led to anything more intense if he could avoid it. After the first two weeks he had grown more and more reluctant to have sex with her and only went for it if she initiated it. When she did and he couldn't think of a way to avoid it, he tried his best to go about it as careful as possible, telling himself over and over that it didn't matter, that there was no way the little tough cookie could come to harm by it. As long as he was careful. Very careful.

"Chandler …. Sweetie … um … you know, I'm really not made of glass, you know …"

"You're sure? You feel very … mmm … brittle to me." He let his hand slide down her waist to her hip and over her buttocks while she nestled closer and hooked a leg over his middle. When he made no move to roll on top, she gave a frustrated sigh and put out an investigative hand.

"Ouch, careful with that … I don't have a spare you know."

"Then get a move on for god's sake, I'm getting sleepy."

"I'm pretty beat myself come to think of it … ouch … oh, okay." He heaved himself up and knelt between her legs, kissing his way down her neck to her shoulders, while his hands slid up from her thighs over her waist and belly to under her arms and over to her breasts. She rested one hand on his shoulders while her other hand got expertly busy on his penis. Suddenly she flinched.

"Mmm – what …?"

"I don't know … they're sensitive. But it's okay, never mind … just leave them alone."

"Brittle. Told ya."

"Don't be ridiculous."

He went down on her again, kissing his way down to her navel and lingering over the area just under it where he imagined her uterus to be, then further down to her vulva. But he barely had slipped two fingers inside her when she already urged him up again, reaching for him impatiently and pulling him to her. He tried to hold himself over her with his elbows and knees, entering her as slowly as he could while she squirmed and clawed at him, pushing him deeper. Then for a short while she calmed somewhat again and they went at it more slowly, drawing out their movements as much as possible, while Chandler did his utmost to keep his full weight from her, from her breasts especially, but most of all from her belly. He knew he should have insisted on another position, but unfortunately Monica liked it this way most of all, especially when she was too horny to bother much with foreplay and just wanted to be done quick and dirty. When he sensed her climax approaching he pushed himself up by straightening his arms and just pressed his hips against her when she arched her back and cried out. For a moment he considered faking his own orgasm, just 'making the faces and the noises', like he had once all that time ago when it had seemed a really bad time for him to start a baby. But there was no need, when he tentatively tried to let go, his release rushed over him in a quick wave, leaving him shuddering and breathing deeply. Though Monica tried to retain him, he let go of her and lay down beside her again, holding her to him and stroking her back while she clung to him.

Later, when he finally got her to turn around so they could spoon again, he cupped her lower belly with his hand and closed his eyes.

Hey there, little tough cookie. Are you still hanging on in there? Sorry if it got a little rough right now. Won't happen again, I promise …

He fell asleep there and then, with his hand still on her belly, smiling in his sleep.

**Week 6, day 36 – 42**

Just a few more days of no change and she would have missed her period for the second time. Her breasts continued to be sensitive too, though she didn't like to admit it. Other than that he had nothing to go on, so it still wasn't really conclusive, still couldn't really be taken as a safe sign. Chandler wanted to believe with all his heart, but just couldn't bring himself to push all his doubts and misgivings away. If he did and it would after all this time turn out that he had been wrong, if it all ended now when he had started to believe, the disappointment would be too much to bear. He just had to leave himself a way out, if only to avoid being utterly crushed by his failed plan.

He continued to hope though. And pray, in his own fashion, with his hand on Monica's belly, every morning and every night, and sometimes in between, during the day even, if there just happened to be an opportunity for a quick cuddle, while she was cooking, or working at the computer, or watching TV with him and the kids. Those were the best times actually, when the other three of them would be too distracted to notice him closing his eyes and silently addressing the little tough cookie, asking or rather begging it for a sign. One more sign.

Come on, little tough cookie, let daddy know you're there. Just a teeny tiny signal. Come on, you can do it, I know you can. One more little sign, how about that?

The following day he stopped at the pharmacy on his return from work to buy a pregnancy test. On his way to the checkout he turned around once more and got another one. Just for safety.

**Week 7, day 47, morning**

He woke twenty minutes before the alarm and decided to get his daily check over with while Monica was still asleep. There would be still be enough time for spooning after.

No change, just as he had expected. He was just closing the cabinet door again, smiling at himself in the mirror, when the bathroom door flew open and Monica rushed in, one hand pressed to her mouth. Elbowing him aside non too gently she fell on her knees before the bowl and violently started to retch.


	6. Showtime Part 1

Be careful what you wish for. Always gotta be careful what you wish for. Because that wish could come true. And then bite you in the ass.

That was all he could think as he stood at or better leaned against the sink, since his knees had started to shake somewhat, while Monica kept retching and coughing so hard it quite broke his heart. That, and the fact that it was April first – April Fool's Day. Quite fitting, since now he did feel rather foolish. And helpless. And the longer she kept retching the more he too started to feel queasy, if only – or mostly - from sympathy.

He wanted nothing more than to get down beside her and hold her tight, but he knew how she hated to have anyone, even him, near her when she had just thrown up. The first days after she'd contracted the food poisoning and had been sick nearly all the time had been pure agony for her.

So he got out a washcloth and a towel from the cupboard under the sink and wetted the washcloth with cold water to have it ready when she finally got up and staggered to the sink. While he flushed the toilet and put the lid back on, she cleaned her face and gargled and even tried to brush her teeth, only to wince after a few strokes and put the brush and tube back down again. Then she remained still for a moment, clenching her hands on the sink, her eyes closed, breathing deeply.

At last Chandler cleared his throat nervously and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to steer her towards the toilet. "Honey, shouldn't you better sit down …?"

Monica took another deep breath and then looked at him, putting on a smile that he knew was faked. "It's okay, I'm alright! It's nothing, just something I ate probably, I'm – whoa!" When she stepped back from the sink, she stumbled back against him and clenched her teeth again while he caught and held her.

"No, you're not. Please, just sit down, okay? Do it for me at least. Alright, there you go …" Once she was safely deposited on the toilet seat, he himself sat down on the rim of the tub just opposite her, and then bent forward and took her hands in his. She had closed her eyes again and tried to breathe deeply. Then she opened her eyes again and gazed at him steadily.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly. She shrugged, her expression now bewildered.

"I don't know. But I feel better now. Really!"

"You're sure?"

"Yes!" And then her expression softened and she put a hand on his face. "But thank you for being so – sweet."

"Maybe you should get back to bed. Get some rest."

"But I can't, the kids have to get ready …"

"I'll do that. No, seriously, let's get you back to bed now. Come on."

After some more pleading and cajoling she gave in and let him escort her back to their bedroom, where he shut down the alarm and kissed her, after she had lain down again.

"I'll be down for breakfast later" she promised and he shrugged.

"If you think you can keep it down ..."

After he'd showered, shaved and dressed, he woke the twins, prodding and cajoling them from their beds to the bathroom and then into their clothes and down to breakfast, ignoring their protests and lame attempts to plead sick while trying to remember what they needed that day and all the things that should – or shouldn't – go into their lunchboxes. By the time he had finally managed to sit them down with their cereals and cocoa, he quite wished he could plead morning sickness too. Especially after they relentlessly tried to make an April's fool of him.

Then Monica came down, still in her dressing gown but otherwise as calm and collected looking as usual, and almost effortlessly brought order to the chaos. With just a few comments and pointed looks she got the twins to put their bowls and mugs away and brush their teeth, and then stampede out the door just in time for the school bus, while Chandler slumped in his chair with a deep sigh of relief. He poured himself some coffee and took up the paper, only to put it down again when Monica cautiously sniffed at her coffee and put the cup away again, wincing.

"Honey, are you –"

"I'm fine!" She smiled rather wanly. "I still think it's nothing."

"But –"

"I know! Don't worry, I'll make an appointment. I've wanted to do that anyway, but I thought it was just some kind of aftereffect …"

"What was?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. I missed a period, that's all."

Chandler picked up the paper again. "No, you didn't."

"What?"

"You didn't miss a period." He looked at her over the paper as she frowned at him. "You missed two periods."

Monica opened her mouth, started to say something and broke off again, frowning, then started counting silently on her fingers.

"Oh. Actually you're right … I did. But … but …"

"Whose butt?" That earned him a reproachful look and made him put away the paper for good.

"But – um, alright, so I missed two periods. So what, I was sick! That could have delayed it."

"Twice?"

"What else could it be?"

"Hmm. Let's see. You feel nauseous, you have dizzy spells, your breasts are sensitive and you missed two periods. Now what could that possibly be? Measles? Flu?"

Monica just stared at him open-mouthed. Then she tried to say something, but no words came out.

"Oh, and you had ice monster sex. Several times. I think that clinches it."

"Cha - … Chandler! - - Oh my god." She covered her face with her hands and shook her head unbelievingly. "No. NO! Nonononononono. NO!"

Chandler got up, went around the table and squatted next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She clung to him and for a while they just held each other tight.

"Shshsh. It's alright. It's alright."

"But … but I can't – it can't be. It just can't."

He tightened his arms around her. "But what if it is?"

She remained silent and just sniffed a few times against his shoulder. He waited a little longer, just holding her and stroking her back, until she raised her head at last and released him, then he let her go and drew up a chair to sit beside her. And repeated his question.

"What if it is?"

She gazed at him uncertainly, her eyes swimming in tears. "I don't know … oh god, I don't know. It could be … No, I can't believe it. It's crazy. I mean, now? After all this time? And … how?"

"I guess the ice monster must have been a stork."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Could you pleeeeaaase –"

"Sh, alright, I'm sorry. But honestly? I don't think it's crazy. Not at all."

She stared unseeingly at the table and absentmindedly aligned her spoon with the plate in front of her.

"I can't believe it" she whispered finally. "I'm sorry, but it's – huge …"

"I know."

There was a pause. Monica had closed her eyes and clenched her hand around the spoon she had just straightened. Then Chandler put his hand over hers and she grabbed at it and squeezed it so hard he almost winced.

"Chandler … I'm so scared."

"I know. Me too."

"You are?"

"Yes. Of losing my fingers – ouch. No, of course I'm scared. You're right. It's … unbelievable."

"This can't be happening. It can't be. It's – it's a false alarm. It's just my imagination. That's right! I'm just imagining things!"

"Honey, if that was true, I'd be imagining things too."

"Right. Okay." She sat up straight and took a deep breath. "So what now? Any ideas? Should we wait some more? And go crazy?"

"Well, actually – hang on." Chandler got up and went into the hall to fetch his briefcase. Back in the kitchen he opened it and took out the pregnancy test, handing it to her. She stared at it, her eyes so huge he could see the white all around the blue.

"What … oh my god. You already … when did you get this?"

"Yesterday."

"Why?"

"Just thought it was a good idea."

"Oh." She turned it over and over in her hands. "Alright. Well. But, you know, it's not – I mean if it's positive, it still doesn't mean – it could be a false positive …"

"I know." He took out the second test. "That's why I got two."

She put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. "Oh my. Oh god. That's … wait a minute. Wait. I think I've got one too! In the bathroom."

"You bought one too?"

"No! It's an old one. I actually kept one. You know, from the time when we were still trying? I didn't want to throw it away."

"Then let's take that too. The more the better."

"But it's so old … will it still work?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

"You mean now?"

"Of course now."

"Yes. Of course. You're right. But … oh god. I don't think I can."

"Shh." He put his arms around her again. "Of course you can. I'll help you."

"Don't you have to go to work?"

He glanced at the kitchen clock and shrugged. "Not really. I can take the day off."

"But we can wait until you get back."

"When the kids are back? No, we'll do this now. And then you make your appointment."

"Oh. Okay." But still she hesitated, staring at the folding box and licking her lips.

"Are you really sure … what if it's negative?"

"Then we wait. And take it again. Or not. Mon, please, I know, I'm scared too. But I want to know."

She looked at him searchingly for a long time and then smiled.

"What?"

"Oh nothing – only that you should care so much, that's … so amazing."

"Care? Of course I care!"

"Yes, I can see that. And I thought you didn't. Not anymore."

"I do now."

She put her head against his and closed her eyes. "I'm so glad you do. I thought you'd given up. Because you thought that I had."

"You? Never."

"Well … sometimes. Maybe. But never completely. So if this doesn't work out –"

"I know. But it's going to be alright. I just know it will." He believed it too. Little tough cookie had come through with a signal just when he'd asked it for one, so how could it not be true?

Monica abruptly took a deep breath and then got up.

"Alright, let's do this. Although –" her gaze wandered over the table "no, I can't leave that like this .."

"Of course you can't." She smiled at this and they started clearing the table together and stacking the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher. At last only the two test boxes remained on the table. Monica picked them up and stared at them again, chewing her lip.

"Oh god, it's been so long since I took these … I've almost forgotten how. And I'm not sure if I got enough – you know – for two, no three …"

"No problem. Just do it in a cup and then we'll put all three tests in the cup."

"All three? Together?"

"Yes. If we need to, I can get more." He put an arm around her shoulder and drew her to him, kissing her hair. "Come on, honey, let's do this."

"Alright. In a cup. Okay." She sighed and opened the cupboard, trying to decide which cup to use while he clenched his teeth and tried not to fidget. At last she took out a cup from the back of the cupboard and they went up the stairs to the bathroom. There she hunted out her old pregnancy test, finding it at last in a toiletry case at the back of the bathroom cupboard and held it up triumphantly.

"There it is! You think it'll work?"

He took out his glasses from his breast pocket to read the date stamp. "May 2004? Sure, why not?"

"What? It's that old? Oh my god. Then it won't work, will it?"

"It doesn't matter. We'll put it in anyway. Just think how sad it would be, if we threw it away unused. We have to at least give it a chance." She pressed her lips together trying not to smile at this, and failing. Then she put the cup on the bathtub, took off her dressing gown and hung it on its hook behind the door. As she raised up the toilet lid, she looked at him uncertainly and he took a step back.

"Um – do you want me to –"

"Nnoo - um … well … maybe if you just sit here ...? And don't look!"

"I don't wanna look! Okay." He sat down on the bathtub rim. "Want me to hold your hand?"

She just glared at him and then pushed down her pajama bottom and panties in one and sat on the toilet, holding the cup between her legs under her. And closed her eyes, her lips moving a little as if she was counting. Or praying. He bent forward a little and put his arm around her shoulder, gently squeezing her upper arm.

"Come on, honey, you can do this. Just relax."

"I know!" She clenched her teeth. "Just give me a moment … ah. Oh god. There." Sighing deeply she handed him the cup which was about half filled. He got up and carefully put it on the edge of the sink and then started to unpack the tests while she wiped, pulled up her pants again and flushed. He glanced at each of the instructions and then at his watch. When she joined him at the sink he handed her two of the tests and held the watch so she could see it too.

"Want to do it at the same time?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching. She looked at him and suppressed a smile.

"On the count of three? One … two …"

"Three!"

In went the test sticks. They held them in for five seconds and then took them out again, laying them down on the sink. All three test tips had turned pink which showed that they worked. Monica turned away and wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling close and pressing her face against his neck. For once he didn't feel the slightest need to say anything, in jest or seriousness.

One minute.

He suddenly remembered how she had taken the tests ten years ago, at least once every month, or several at the start when she thought it had been too early. On most of those times he had been in Tulsa, but when he had been there she had always been careful not to let it ruin their day and only told him in the evening in bed that it hadn't worked. Then they had cuddled, sometimes making love, but mostly just holding each other tight. And he had never been completely sure if he wasn't just a tiny bit relieved. At least at the beginning, but maybe even up to that fateful fertility test. Only after that it had come home to him how desperately important this had been to Monica and he wished he had taken it more seriously. When it was too late.

Two minutes.

After almost a year of trying Monica hadn't even bothered with pregnancy tests anymore and just waited for her period to tell her that it hadn't worked. He remembered waking up sometimes when she got up to go to the bathroom early in the morning, but mostly only when she returned and wordlessly lay down again beside him, silently fighting her tears, and clutching him to her when he reached out.

Three minutes.

What if the tests were negative after all? What could he do? Would she be able to stand it? She was pretty strong, but maybe this would be too much for her. He wished he had waited a little longer with telling her. But it had all been so – predetermined somehow. Her missing a period for the second time and getting sick just when he'd wanted one more sign.

Four minutes.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of the tiny lump of cells clinging to the wall of her uterus, growing from the cell formed by his and her joined gametes. The little tough cookie.

Please, he thought. Pleasepleaseplease be there. Be there for me. For us.

This was it. Now he would find out if his idea had worked or if he had spent 6 weeks talking to something that wasn't there, never had been.

And now he wasn't sure how he could stand it if it wasn't.

Five minutes.

Showtime.

They both took a deep breath at the same time and then turned as one to look at the tests lying face up on the sink. She still had one arm around his waist and he could feel her shaking. Not that he could blame her. He was shaking too.

They both needed reading glasses by now – him actually for much longer than her, already from the time shortly after their engagement, and her for the last two years or so. But he didn't need them now. There was no doubt about what the tests showed. All three of them.

One of the tests he had bought showed a clearly defined plus sign. The other one showed two sharp dark lines. The third test, Monica's old one, showed two lines too, though rather weak and fuzzy. But definitely two.

All three tests were positive.


	7. Showtime Part 2

"Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod …"

Monica pressed a hand to her mouth while she stared at the three tests, whimpering. Her other hand clenched on Chandler's waist, quite hard in fact, but he didn't notice. In fact he didn't notice anything much anymore, not the bathroom, nor the sunshine and the morning sounds coming through the window – some late birds, a dog barking, a delivery van backing up from someone's driveway -, or Monica breathing hard and shaking close beside him. Nothing except the three tests sitting on the sink silently shouting their message at them. Little tough cookie's latest – and clearest - message to him.

Yes, it was there. Yes, he hadn't just imagined it, wished it into existing. It was real. It was alive. Alive and kicking. Well, maybe not kicking yet. But definitely alive. And growing.

And he had made it. He literally had made it happen.

Yes, somehow he had done it, had achieved the impossible. And all of a sudden the enormousness of it all caught up with him and made him first swallow and then cough. As Monica stared at him concerned, he just waved her off and tried to smile reassuringly.

"It's alright" he croaked. "It's – oh god, I just can't … This had better so not be some April Fool's joke!"

"I know!" All of a sudden her eyes were shining and sparkling. "I can't believe it … Chandler, I'm really - we're going to –" She threw her arms around him and kissed him, on his cheek, nose, chin, until he put a hand against the back of her head to hold her still so they could kiss properly, with all the stops pulled. When he let her go again they were both quite out of breath.

"Yes. We are. We really are. Wow."

He looked at the tests again and back to her when she drew up her nose. Only then he saw that tears were spilling out of her eyes and running down her cheeks. When she saw his concern she smiled and groped for a tissue in the box on the cupboard.

"It's okay, I'm alright – just –" She blew her nose and then took a deep breath. "Whew. Alright. This is so – what do we do now?"

"I guess we had better sit down for a while. Talk it over."

"Okay. Yes. You're right." She took up the cup absentmindedly and emptied it into the toilet, then rinsed it under the tab. Just as she wanted to take up the tests, she hesitated and then looked at him.

"I don't know – I don't really want to throw them away, but –"

He smiled wryly. "I know. I don't want to keep them either, but – oh wait! I've got an idea." He felt around in his pockets until he remembered where he had left it. "Don't move!" And he rushed downstairs to their office where he found his phone on the desk, still attached to the charger. He disengaged it and ran upstairs again, taking three steps at a time in his hurry. Back in the bathroom he had to get his breath back first, then he started the camera function and took a photo of the three sticks, careful to get the tiny panels with the lines clearly into it. He brought up the photo on the screen afterwards and they both examined it critically.

"Okay – now one of each too?" She nodded and he enlarged the focus and snapped separate pictures of each single test. And then looked at her and got on one knee before her, aiming the camera at her abdomen and grinning.

"Chandler!"

"Oh come on. We'll make an album. One photo every day. How cool would that be?"

She hesitated, chewing her lip and then sighed. "Alright. But just this area here – wait ..." She pulled up her pajama top a little and framed the area around her navel with her hands. Chandler focused the camera and made the picture, then he lowered the phone again, grinning happily, and leaning forward a little he pursed his mouth and kissed her belly just under the navel. Monica giggled softly and put her hands on the back of his head, holding him in place, and he wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.

'Hey there, cookie' he sent out silently. 'How yooouu doin'? I've got your message, you know. And I'm sooo happy you're here ….'

He could feel Monica's knees shaking slightly. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his shoulders while he pressed his face against her belly. And suddenly snuffled too.

"Oh god … sweetie … are you –"

He raised his face just a little, blinking up at her, then shifted and tightened his grip and lifted her up as he got on his feet. She gasped and held on to his shoulders, giggling and wrapping her legs around him while he carried her into their bedroom as fast as he could.

Monica had already made the bed of course, but didn't object when he lowered her onto it and then lay down beside her, kicking off his shoes. As they nestled close he put his hand on her belly again, stroking it reverently. When she drew his head up, they kissed, at first hesitating and gently, and then getting more and more passionate. Her breath started to shorten and hitch and at last they let go, just leaning their heads together, smiling at each other. His hand hadn't moved from her belly the entire time, and now she put her hands over his, cradling her belly protectively.

"Wow" she said at last. "Oh my … I can't believe it. And I can't believe that you – that you are so happy too."

"What? Why shouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. It's crazy, I know. All this time I thought, you know, that you didn't really want one more kid, that the twins were enough …"

"Well, they are quite a handful …"

"I know. And they are so big already, I thought you were glad that they're finally growing up –"

"Shsh. Maybe. But this is different. This is - " he almost said "mine" changing it at the last moment to "ours. Our baby."

Her gaze softened again. "And you're really – okay with this? It must be quite a shock to you."

"Yeah. There had better not be two of them in there. Or three! If it's three I'm out of here!"

She laughed. "Oh god, I couldn't stand it if it was three. No, we'll have to wait for the sonogram, but I'm pretty sure it's just one. One tiny sweet little baby. Our baby."

"Yeah." He kissed her again. "Me too. It's a miracle that even one of my guys got his ass out of his Barcalounger, but two would really be too much to hope for. Unless we get identical twins – oh god."

She looked quite alarmed at that and then shook her head and giggled helplessly.

"Yeah. But you know – I don't care. I don't care what it is. It's a baby. That's all that counts."

He gently stroked her belly again. "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean?"

"As you said, it's been such a long time. Can we really – do this?"

Staring at him she opened her mouth, and closed it again, considering and then took a deep breath, nodding fiercely.

"Yes. Yes I do. I mean, this is really sudden, and I never thought it could happen, but – oh god. OH MY GOD!"

"OH-OH my god …" he echoed, smiling. "Yeah, that's exactly how I feel about it."

Her gaze softened and she grabbed his head and drew him down again, kissing him fiercely.

"I love you so much …" she whispered and he felt himself growing quite hot under his collar. "I'm so happy now. I wish we could tell everybody …"

"Yeah, I can totally see you shouting it from the balcony for hours, waving those pregnancy tests …" They laughed breathlessly together.

"Seriously though, shouldn't we wait a little, well until the doctor's appointment?"

"Yes, we should. But I don't know if I can. This is so huge!"

"I know. I'm not sure I can either. We have to though."

"Yeah. I know. But then – afterwards – oh god, then we have to tell everybody. My parents, Ross … the gang …"

"Jack and Erica" he said quietly and her hand flew to her mouth in shock.

"Oh my god, Jack and Erica! What will they think? What if they don't – if they don't like it?"

"They will. They're good kids. They'll love it."

"You're sure?"

"Yes" he said firmly though he wasn't all that sure anymore. "I guess we'll just have to – well, break it to them gently ... somehow. But not now."

"Yeah. You're right. Oh god, I'm still so confused. I can't think straight. I'm pregnant! We're having a baby! A BABY! A –mmmpff –" He kissed her again, this time to stop her from screaming and after a moment's struggle she relaxed and kissed him back. At last she calmed somewhat and they let go again, chuckling weakly. When she closed her eyes and lay back, he started to kiss his way down her neck and chest until he arrived at her navel again, where he hovered, gently caressing her abdomen. And quietly humming to himself without being aware of it.

_"So won't you please - be my, be my baby, be my little baby, my one and only baby …" *  
_

.

**Day 49 (week 7/9)**

Seven weeks. He had waited seven weeks for this. Now it was Thursday again, the seventh Thursday after the one where he had started it, his very own secret mission and today was the day he would finally get to see with his own eyes what he had planted and what had grown within his hopes and wishes and dreams, make eye contact where the only contact had been through his thoughts before.

His baby. The teeny tiny little lump, the little tough cookie that was steadily getting bigger, growing into a person. Their child that had been created from half his and half Monica's DNA, and that, if all went well, he would get to meet for real, to see and touch, to hold and to love to bits, in 7 to 8 months.

Though he loved it to bits already now. Couldn't stop thinking about it at any time. Or talking to it. Singing to it. And dreaming about it.

And it was so ironic really. On the day he'd had the idea, when he had suddenly realized that there might be a chance to get Monica pregnant, he had been thinking only about her, and that he could finally make her dream of a baby come true. All that time he had only thought about making her happy and hardly spared a thought for the baby. Until the night he had carried out his mission and started to wait. And hope. And then suddenly the little tough cookie had set up camp not just in Monica's uterus but in his heart too, practically at the same time, even before he could be sure that it existed. And now he had lost himself to it immediately, had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. For good. As scary as that was.

Yeah, scary indeed. How could something that tiny be scary? If only he had realized that sooner, even before that moment in the giftshop when he looked at the tiny onesie on his wedding day. Scary? Not really – but on the other hand, so much. And also so wonderful and heart-stoppingly awesome.

They were waiting in the doctor's office, at Monica's OB/GYN in Westchester. After they had recovered from the shock of the three positive pregnancy tests and managed to tear themselves away from each other long enough to make their calls – she to her doctor for an appointment and he to his boss as soon as she got it to explain his delay and take the afternoon of the appointment off – they had felt strangely at a loss, not sure what to do. It was too early for everything, too early to tell everybody or even think about how to do it, too early even to make any plans. They could only wait. And hold each other, talk and cuddle, laugh and cry together, and be happy.

Well, and worried too of course. Worried sick actually, and trying desperately not to let it ruin their happiness, and keep reassuring each other and themselves that it was going to be alright. Inspite of everything that still could go wrong. Inspite of the long way ahead, all the obstacles and hurdles they still had to take. The happiness was there to be enjoyed and they did.

And at least he did not have to worry all by himself anymore. From now on whatever happened, he would share it with Monica.

And so far it somehow really did look as if it was going to be alright. The preliminary examination and the tests had gone well and confirmed what they already knew – that Monica was pregnant – and moreover that she was in good health again and no lingering after effects from the food poisoning remained. Unless you counted the little tough cookie an after effect.

She still had dizzy spells and had experienced a few more bouts of morning sickness too, but firmly refused to let it affect her in any way. He on the other hand felt as if his heart was torn out of his chest every time she had to rush to the bathroom, or the nearest sink. Or bucket. And this was only the beginning. He couldn't let himself think about the next seven months without starting to shake and sweat. And constantly asking himself what exactly he had let himself in for. What what what on earth had he been thinking?

"Chandler …"

"Huh?"

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Humming. Seriously, sweetie, I love it, but couldn't you maybe –try a different song?"

"Oh. Was it the same song again? I didn't notice."

She gave him one of her patented reproachful looks.

"Yes it was. Be my Baby – it's driving me crazy! I can't get it out of my head anymore!"

"Sorry." He straightened and sat on the edge of the examining table where Monica lay half naked under a sheet, resting his hand on her belly almost automatically. "I'm just – I can't wait."

"I know. I know! But please, a different song? Anything?"

"Um – anything?!"

"Yes, please!"

"Okay, but I'm not sure I remember all the words from 'Baby got Back' though … Ouch. Okay, okay."

And he bent over her again until his nose almost touched her belly and softly started to sing under his breath.

_"Dream baby dream … dream baby dream … come on and dream baby dream …" **  
_

Monica sighed deeply, but didn't object to his rendition of the song from 'the Boss' and he carried on, hardly noticing when the door opened and Dr. Lotz came in, snapping on her latex gloves, and grinning cheerfully at them.

"Hi there! So? Has he freaked yet? No?" Monica frantically shook her head while he stared at her quizzically.

"No, but he keeps singing at the baby, and now I'm beginning to freak." Monica stated drily and he sighed deeply, making a great show of wounded feelings, while he got up to make room for the doctor who briskly started to set up the sonogram.

"Singing, eh? That's always nice. And don't worry, the baby can't hear much at this stage. The ears are just developing. At eight weeks gestational age –"

"Nine" Chandler interjected, making her frown at him.

"Oh? Let's see – when was your last period again?"

Monica frowned. "Beginning of February …?"

"January 30th." He said smugly. The doctor stared.

"Wow. It's quite rare that the mother remembers that so clearly, let alone the father. January 30th.? Okay, that would put the date of conception around middle of February. Oooh, could this actually be a Valentine baby?"

Chandler saw Monica's eyes widen as his jaw dropped. Oh my god. Valentine's Day. He had completely forgotten about it, and so had Monica, tired and fever-ridden as she had been. Anyway, ever since they had settled in Westchester, over time that day had lost its importance for them. Other than some flowers and maybe a nice dinner somewhere if it fell on a weekend there was nothing they did on that day especially anymore. And actually the night of the ice monster sex had been on Valentine's eve, but going on midnight and there was no telling when the little tough cookie had actually come into being …

"Yeah …" he said hoarsely. "It could be. Wow. And the stork never sent a card!"

Monica pressed her lips together and the doctor smirked.

"It would make a nice middle name …"

"Only if it's a boy" he objected. "What if it's a girl?"

"Valentina?" Monica frowned and shook her head. "No. Not really. NO!"

"Well, we won't know yet what it is, not for some time. The chances are still pretty much 50/50."

"It's a girl." Only when they both stared at him, Monica with raised eyebrows he realized that he had said it out loud and winced. "I mean – did I say that out loud?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oookay … well, I think it's a girl. Stands to reason, doesn't it? Girl sperms are tougher, everybody knows that."

The doctor wagged her head. "Could be" she admitted. "Well, looks like we'll know for sure in November … November 6th. In fact. There. That's your official due date. But it might be a little later than that. Think you can wait that long to find out?"

"Yes" Monica said quietly. "I don't care what it is or how long it takes. As long as there is a baby that's all that matters. To me." Chandler squeezed her hand and the doctor smiled reassuringly.

"Oh the baby's there. In fact – here it is! That's your little Valentine."

Indeed it was. The screen at the foot of the table came to life, showing them the inside of Monica's uterus, and so pretty much exactly what he had been afraid of: a mass of dark, swirling, quivering, whorled shapes, twisting and pulsing, seemingly impenetrable and totally confusing. And nothing that looked even remotely like a baby, let alone a little tough cookie …

Monica was staring raptly at the screen, with the exact same expression on her face as when she had examined the sonogram picture that Erica had shown them. The picture of the twins at 4 or 5 months that had her so fascinated she had completely failed to see that there were two shapes instead of one. And where he hadn't seen anything at all, but couldn't admit it. Just like now.

He shifted a little uncomfortably and looking up caught the doctor's knowing grin.

Rachel too hadn't been able to see her baby, he suddenly remembered. Ross had kept telling them the story over and over, how he had to point out the tiny peanut thing that was their baby on the picture for weeks while Rachel kept losing it. And what about Ben's sonogram? 'I think it's about to attack the Enterprise', yeah, he hadn't been much better at that really.

Then Dr. Lotz winked at him and surreptitiously pointed at, well, something, somewhere in the middle of the screen. Something pale and rounded, vanishing from view every few moments and popping up again. He made an effort to focus on it, and then suddenly found that once he'd seen it, he couldn't unsee it again. Yes, there it was. His little tough cookie. Undeniably definitely there.

"Is the baby … is everything alright with it?" Monica whispered.

"What do you mean? Of course it is. It's everything an embryo of nine weeks gestational age should be. So far there's nothing wrong. And why should there be?"

Monica shrugged helplessly. "It's just – it's been so long, we thought we couldn't get pregnant. I'm 43 – almost 44 …"

"So?"

"Isn't that – bad?"

"No. Not as such. Everybody's different. I've seen mothers in their twenties who were in far worse shape. You'll be fine. Believe me, everything's looking up. You shouldn't worry. In fact, you must not worry. Worrying is very bad for you. And the baby." She nodded at Chandler. "There, look at him. He's not worried. Are you?"

Chandler snapped out of his rapt contemplation, totally disoriented. "Huh, what?"

"Honey, are you alright?"

"Yeah … " he grinned, gazing blissfully at the screen again, firmly tracking the pale little blob. "Yeah, I so am."

And as Monica and the doctor exchanged bemused glances he smiled goofily at his baby on the screen and started to sing again.

"Hee-eyy – goodlookin'! What've yooouuu got cookin'?" ***

.

_.  
_

* "Be my baby", The Ronettes, 1963

** "Dream Baby Dream", Suicide, 1979/cover by Bruce Springsteen 2014

*** Hey, Goodlookin', Hank Williams, 1951

_._

_A/N Yes, I've got the idea for "Hey good-lookin'" from that Scrubs episode 'My Unicorn' where Matthew's dad sings it. If you don't know it, check it out on Youtube, it's well worth watching._


	8. Show and Tell Part 1

**Day 51 (week 8/10)  
**

"Haaappieee biirrthday toooo yooouuuu! Haaaappy biirrrthday tooo yoooouu! Haaappy biirrthday dear Mo-ommy, haaapppy biiirrthday to you!"

Monica's jaw dropped as her eyes opened and she came awake to the twins standing before the bed and singing to her, together with Chandler lying behind her, as always with his hand on her belly. When she turned around to look at him speechlessly, he grinned at her and gave the twins a thumbs-up.

"Oh my god … wow ..."

"Happy birthday, Mom!" Now they scrambled on the bed, crowding in for a hug and a kiss while Chandler hurriedly made room. Monica sat up and tried to hug them both at the same time.

"Wow, thank you, that's so sweet … Why are you up already – oh no-" She looked at the alarm and then accusingly at Chandler.

"Relax, Mon, its Saturday. And your birthday. You don't need to get up. In fact, you don't need to do anything today. We'll take care of everything, won't we?"

"Yeah, totally! We'll make breakfast for you and everything!"

"You can stay in bed the whole day!"

"Oh god." Monica let herself fall back on the pillow. "Really? But if I – oh, alright. Okay. But be careful –"

"- with the stove ..." Jack rolled his eyes.

"And don't try to make –"

"Pancakes, yeah, we know. Dad's gonna make them, right?"

"Totally." He scooted closer to Monica again. "But give us a minute, guys, okay?"

Monica sat up again. "Okay, you guys get everything ready and then we'll come down to breakfast and Daddy'll make the pancakes. And afterwards –" she looked at Chandler again "- we'll have to talk. There's something we have to – what?"

Chandler put his hand on her mouth shushing her while he winked at the twins who grinned broadly at them, the gleeful expressions on their faces nearly identical. Then he mouthed silently 'one two three' at them and they both took a deep breath.

"We know! We know! We know!"

"Weknowweknowweknow! Weknowweknowweknow!"

Monica stared at them, hands clapped to her mouth, speechless and then looked helplessly at Chandler whose grin almost split his face as he joined the chant in a somewhat deeper pitch.

"We know! We know! We know!"

He only wished he could have recorded this. Joey would have been so proud that his invention finally was realized. The evening before he had practiced for hours with the twins until it sounded just like the barbershop quartet tune Joey had suggested when he wanted to get them to end that crazy game of "Weknowtheyknowweknowtheyknow "before it got out of hand.

When Monica had recovered somewhat and turned her questioning glare at him, he motioned to the twins to wrap it up, and then fetched a big parcel wrapped in bright pink wrapping paper and with a big red bow on it from under the bed and handed it to her grinning.

"Happy birthday, Mo-mmm" he said quietly.

"A gift? But we don't do that anymore!"

"I know. Just this time. Go on, open it."

She sighed and shook her head and then started to open the box. Even before they had moved to Westchester they had agreed to not give each other presents anymore on their birthdays and at Christmas. Since Monica always felt compelled to surpass her gift from the year before if she could and he found it harder and harder to keep up with her, the stress had just got too much for them both. Instead of material gifts they now just tried to make the birthdays very special by treats and spoiling each other rotten on that day.

The carton under the wrapping paper contained another, smaller carton which then contained yet another one, all of them painstakingly wrapped in bright pink paper. Monica sighed exasperatedly with each carton and the twins giggled and skipped, cheering her on. At last she held a flat hard rectangle in her hands which turned out to be a framed picture when she removed the final layer of wrapping paper. As she stared at the picture her mouth dropped open again. Chandler had made a still of the sonogram video in which the little tough cookie was clearly visible, cut it to size and superimposed it on the picture of Monica's abdomen with her hands framing it. Then he had made cutouts of the three pregnancy tests, animated them and placed them on the sides and on top. Finally on the bottom of the picture he had added a "Happy Birthday Mom!" in big fat rainbow letters.

"Chandler … oh my god, Chandler, that's so –"

He smiled. "Yeah? Do you like it?"

"Of course I do! Wow, that's soo sweet! I love it so much! Oh my, where are we going to put it?"

"Where ever you want. It's your picture."

"Wow." Then she looked at the twins. "Did you -?"

Jack shook his head. "Na, Dad made that all by himself. He never let us help."

"But we watched him do it." Erica put in, grinning.

"Wow. Oh my. And you really know? About the baby? Really? And you're okay with it?"

The twins exchanged a look and then shrugged with rather exaggerated indifference.

"Yeah, sure!"

"It's no big deal."

"We're cool."

Monica frowned. "Really?! And it's not – weird?"

"No. Maybe – but, no, not really."

"I mean, so what? Could be cool even."

"So what's it gonna to be? A boy or a girl?"

Monica smiled. "Your dad seems to think it's a girl."

"Eewww." Jack pouted and Erica grinned and pushed her fist in the air. "Yes!"

"But it could still be a boy. We'll just have to wait and see."

"How long?"

"Well … maybe in two or three months. But for sure in November."

"Aw. That's soo long!"

Monica reached up and hugged them both to her. "Yeah, it'll be a long wait. But it'll go by faster than you think!"

Chandler put his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, and once it's here, you'll soon wish it wasn't. When it's here and screams and poops all the time …"

"EWW!" "DAAADD!"

He winced as Monica cuffed him in the ribs and then smiled at her. Her expression softened again at that and she drew him down to kiss him. From the corner of his eye he saw the twins grimacing and slowly backing away to the door. Breaking the kiss he grinned cheerfully at them and waved, and then returned to the kiss as the twins hastily fled from the bedroom.

At last Monica sank back to her pillow and smiled blissfully. "Wow. I can't believe you told them already."

"Well, you were so strung up about it, I thought it would make you feel better if I cleared that out of the way for you."

"That's so sweet. And I can't believe they're okay about it! That's such a relief!"

Actually they hadn't been right away. In hindsight Chandler was very glad he'd decided to tell them when Monica had to go to her weekly staff meeting at Javu's the evening before. In fact it had taken a good while and a lot of questions and misunderstandings until the news had finally sunk in. He still winced at the memory of Erica asking him why they wanted another baby from her birth mother now and Jack wanted to know if they had gotten too big for them. He still wasn't quite sure he'd explained everything right. But hopefully Monica would take up any loose ends.

"Well, now they are. We'll see how they feel about it once the baby is here ..."

"You think so?"

"Well – no, I'm not sure, but they're good kids, they'll be fine."

"Yeah. I think so too. Oh my. Wow, it's so weird. I had a whole speech prepared for them, and now – they already know!"

"Yeah." He kissed her on the top of her head. "But don't worry, you still get to tell your parents - are they still coming tomorrow? And the gang next weekend. And – did you tell your boss already?"

"No –"

"And your boss. Your colleagues. And our neighbors. And our friends. Wow, that's practically everyone!"

"Your parents too?"

"If you want to. I still don't know if they'll come to my birthday. I don't think my dad will be able to take the weekend off. It's a busy time in Vegas. And I haven't heard from my mom yet. I think she's on a book tour or something."

"We'll phone them. Together. Okay. But now I really have to get up."

"Relax, Mon. It's your birthday. Everything's going to be fine."

"Yeah. I know. Mmmmh … oohh … um, no, I can't. Sorry, but I do have to get up now …"

"Oh, come on, just a few more minutes …"

"But I have to pee!"

.

.

**Day 52 (week 8/10)  
**

Judy Geller lowered her coffee cup again and stared at her daughter blankly.

"You? You are – pregnant?"

When Monica just nodded silently, she turned to her husband as if for confirmation. But Jack Geller just sat there open-mouthed, seemingly struck dumb.

"Pregnant …" Judy repeated. "That's … I don't know what to say – Jack! Jack, say something!"

"How should I know what to say?"

"Well, how about 'congratulations, Monica, we're very happy for you' ..?" Monica kept her voice level, but Chandler saw her fingers clench around her fork, and he was very glad that the twins had already finished their cake and gone to watch TV.

"Well, yes, of course that. Congratulations, dear. But … this is so unexpected. And, are you really sure?"

"Of course I am."

"Of course she is. That's great news!" And now his father-in-law actually turned to him, beaming. "Way to go, Chandler!"

"Jack!"

"What? Isn't it great? Our little Harmonica's having a baby!"

"Yes …" Judy patted her hair absentmindedly. "Yes, yes, of course it is. But, are you really sure it's – wise? I mean, a baby? At your age?"

Monica's mouth dropped open. There was an uncomfortable pause while mother and daughter stared at one another silently. Just when Chandler wanted to say something, though he had no idea actually what – and Jack too took a deep breath, Monica closed her mouth again and swallowed.

"What do you mean, at my age?! Do you really think we – planned this?"

Her mother's gaze fluttered to the table and she started to straighten the tablecloth even though it was quite smooth already.

"Well no, but then why …"

"Because we didn't. Plan this. It just happened. If finally happened! For me! I got pregnant! And I'm happy about it!" Monica's voice was rising with each phrase. "So unbelievably – happy!"

Chandler put his arms around her and drew her to him, just as her father reached out to pat her hand.

"Shsh, honey, it's alright …"

"There, there, of course you are. And we are too. Really happy. Aren't we, Judy?"

Monica pressed her face against Chandler's shoulder, her final "- happy –" muffled in his shirt. Then he felt her stiffen and her breath hitch, just a second before she tore herself away and jumped up, bolting for the kitchen with her hand clamped to her mouth and heaving. Jack actually started to get up, but aborted the manoeuver again when Judy held him back, silently shaking her head, and Chandler too remained on his seat, smiling reassuringly at them.

"Morning sickness" he said apologetically. "More coffee anyone?" Winking at them, he added "Or something stronger?"

Jack beamed at him approvingly and Judy visibly relaxed.

.

.

"You know, Judy had the flu."

"Oh? I'm sorry. Is she still –"

Jack shushed him impatiently. "No! She's fine. I mean – she had the flu way back then. You know, when we made Ross!"

"When you – oh." Chandler shut his mouth again, swallowing whatever comment had been trying to get out, and just stopped himself from backing away slightly. The two of them were standing in the garden, by the stream, where they had drifted to after Jack had announced the need for some 'fresh air' which Chandler had immediately interpreted as a cigarette break. However, so far his father-in-law had made no move to light up, for which he was grateful. Some old habits died very hard indeed and even after ten years he didn't entirely trust himself as far as cigarettes were concerned. Instead, Jack had just ambled across the lawn with his hands comfortably in his pockets and then stopped at the edge of the stream by the willow to look at the twins' treehouse, seemingly lost in thought when he made his statement as if out of the blue. Now he turned to Chandler again, staring at him earnestly out of his muddy brown eyes under the thick grey brows.

"She just didn't get pregnant! No matter how hard we tried - and we really tried! But it just didn't take. You see, we just had to have a child, because when we got engaged we had told everyone that Judy was pregnant. Otherwise they wouldn't have let us get married. Her folks were dead against it. They hated me – especially her mother. So then when there was no child after all, they turned the heat on again."

"Oh. That must have been –"

"Yeah. I'm telling you, it was really terrible! We even talked about moving away, but Judy didn't want to leave … And then she got the flu, and I thought, what the hell, I'll give it a shot anyway, maybe it'll work this time. And then, bam! It did!" He grinned cheerfully at Chandler who smiled back warily.

"She got pregnant ..?"

"Yeah! I'm telling you, it was such a relief. And when Ross got born, Althea came round, full circle. In fact, she was a different woman all of a sudden. She absolutely doted on Ross. And all because Judy had the flu." He gave Chandler a conspiratorial wink. "She wouldn't believe it, still won't hear of it, so don't tell her I told you this, but I'm sure it was because of the flu."

"Yeah. I understand. I really do."

Jack's gaze bored into him again expectantly and he swallowed, feeling very nervous suddenly. For a moment he felt the urge to open up and tell his father-in-law that closely held, cherished secret of his, and then found he just couldn't do it. Even in the light of Jack's surprising – and rather unsettling – revelation he just couldn't bring himself to it. Somehow he had never managed to get really close to his parents-in-law. While he had never been able to warm to Judy at all, his relations with Jack had actually improved over the years. But there just had been too many embarrassing incidents that he couldn't help remembering every time they met, no matter how hard he tried to forget.

Also he had to bear in mind that whatever he told Jack was sure to get back to Judy and from her to Monica again, and he couldn't have that, could he? So he searched for a distraction.

"And Monica?"

"Monica? What about her?"

"I mean, was Judy sick too when you made – Monica?"

Jack pondered the question at length.

"I don't know …" he admittedly rather sheepishly. "Could be. I don't remember actually. Monica – I think she just sneaked in on us. We weren't really expecting her."

"But you said you tried –"

"Sure, we did. All the time. But it wasn't that important anymore."

"But you said that was how you got your bad hip."

"What was? Oh, for Monica? When did I say that?"

"When Emma was born. And you caught us in the closet?"

Jack stared at him disconcertedly and then grinned broadly.

"Right! So I did. Well. But the truth is, I don't know how it worked with Monica. She just – arrived. I don't think Judy was sick again, because she's never been sick since. She just never gets sick."

"I know. Monica never gets sick either."

"Except now, eh?" Jack winked again. "Actually that's what made me remember this, so I thought I'd tell you. I'm really glad you made it work."

"Thank you, sir, but I –"

"And don't mind Judy. She'll come around. It's just her way."

"I know, but –"

"The important thing is that Monica is happy. I know she wanted this. And I know you will take care of her, won't you? That job's not finished yet!"

"Of course it isn't. And of course I will."

"Yes, I know." Jack patted him on the shoulder. "And now let's go back in."

"Didn't you – I mean, did you get enough fresh air?"

"Eh?" Jack frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, I quit years ago. Why does everybody think I still smoke?" He twinkled at Chandler again. "But it's a great excuse, isn't it?"

.

.

.

_A/N: Yes, I do know that Monica's birthday is supposed to be in March and everybody seems to believe that Chandler's birthday is on April 8__th__, though it's never actually said in the canon. For my story I've decided to have Monica's birthday on April 5__th__ and Chandler's on April 19__th__. _


	9. Show and Tell Part 2

**Day 56 (week 8/10)  
**

"Um …. Honey …"

"Hmm?"

"Please tell me you're not trying out that Dr. Masters position …?"

"What position?"

"You know. In the pilot of Masters of Sex. Where he keeps his shirt on?"

"Oh. That. Um. Well, no, but –"

"Seriously, it creeped me out. Still does."

"But it's not the same! I took my shirt off!"

Monica sighed deeply and turned around, facing him.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry, but –"

"Sh. No, I'm sorry, it's okay, we don't need to do this."

"But I want to! I really do." She nestled closer and they kissed deeply.

"Mmmh … Mmf ... oh god … I want you too …"

"Then let's do it!"

"Oh god. Mmmh – no, I'm sorry, I know it won't hurt the baby, I know the doctor said so too, but I can't do this. I can't go on top ..."

"Well, then I go on top."

"But you don't like that so much."

"Of course I like to go on top! We do that all the time!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?!"

"… no … I guess you're right."

"YEE-HAW!"

"Stop it! But seriously, Chandler, shouldn't I be the one worrying when you get on top?"

"I'm not worried. I just won't do it."

"Please, I'm not even showing yet and you're already worried about crushing it? Come on, you're not that heavy. I can take it."

"Well I can't. Come on, Mon, it's Dr. Masters Shirtless! You don't know what you're missing!"

"No thanks. How about sideways?" And she hooked her leg over his waist, pressing her calf against his buttocks, and then wrapped her arms around him.

"Oompf … oh, you mean that stranglehold position where you break all my ribs …?"

"Oh shut up and get on it." She shifted her hips and slid her hand down his back, fluttering her fingertips over the ridges of his spine and his breath caught. He stroked and cupped her buttocks and held himself against her, letting her take him inside instead of actively pushing in. After some squirming and fumbling the task was accomplished and Monica sighed and moaned with relief and arousal. They went at it slowly at first until they found their rhythm and then kept going intensely, drawing it out, kissing deeply and losing themselves in each other until it seemed to Chandler as if they had melted and fused together, become one. Their breath rates went up and Monica started to whimper and squirm, desperately working herself against him. He pushed his leg up against hers a little, changing the angle, and she threw her head back, her breath hitching and her nails digging into his back. As she relaxed again he kept going, though a bit more slowly, until his own orgasm built up and then rolled through him. She held onto him and cradled him against her breast while they got their breaths back.

"Whew. Oh god. Bill Masters eat your heart out."

"See? I knew this would work better!"

"Yeah. Good ole stranglehold. But what about when you get – well, later?"

"When I get bigger you mean?"

"When our baby gets bigger." He gently stroked her belly under the navel when she let go and luxuriously stretched out on her back.

"I don't know. And I don't care, it's too early yet. We'll see."

"You're right. And if everything else fails, I can always put my shirt on."

.

**Day 58 (week 9/11)  
**

After leaving New York City Monica and Chandler had decided early on to throw only one birthday party for their friends for both of their birthdays each year, combining them so their friends didn't have to travel out to them twice in two weeks and saving themselves the costs of two separate parties. It usually worked out very nicely, especially this year, where both birthdays fell on the weekend and they could use the weekend between them for the shared birthday party.

Ross arrived first, almost an hour early and by himself, trying hard to appear casual and unconcerned, but failing miserably – with Chandler at least when he let him in. Monica who had been busy in the kitchen was too flustered to notice the soppy grin Ross kept trying to suppress.

"What are you doing here? I said five p.m.! Where's Rachel? And Emma and Leo?"

"Relax, it's okay, they're buying new high heels for Emma. You don't mind, do you?"

"High Heels? She just turned eleven!"

"Eleven and 2 months ... actually yes, I know, that's what I thought too. But I was overruled, and I meant if you mind that I'm early …"

"Well, I'm not finished in the kitchen, and I still have to get dressed, and Jack and Erica are still at the mall, and –"

"Monica! Hey!" He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her to him. "Breathe, will you? Happy birthday!" Monica giggled and hugged him back.

"Thank you! Of course I don't mind! There's just so much to do still …"

"Yeah, I get it. Don't worry." Ross let her go and looked her up and down, his hands in his pockets. "So, you're pregnant, huh?"

Monica's jaw dropped. "What – YOU KNOW?!" She turned round to glare at Chandler who threw up his hands in protest. "Did you -?"

"I didn't tell him!"

"Actually Mom told me." Ross' grin turned decidedly soppy and his gaze dropped to Monica's belly. "I couldn't believe it. Wow, you guys! This is so great!"

"MOM told you?! I don't believe it! She knew I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"Yeah, well, you know Mom. But don't worry, Rachel doesn't know yet." At that Monica calmed again somewhat and Ross sat down on the sofa, gazing at them expectantly.

"So, this is really great! How did it happen?"

"I'm not sure, but I think bees had something to do with it ..?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "Ross …! Oh, well, you know what? Chandler can tell you all the details, I need to finish dinner." With that she rushed back to her kitchen and Ross turned to Chandler.

"Congratulations, man! Well how about you? I bet this must have been a real shock, huh?"

"Shock? No, I'm not shocked. Why should I be?"

Ross stared. "But … you're not freaking out?"

"No ..?"

"Wow. But I bet you did when you found out, huh?"

"No. Actually Monica freaked. She wouldn't believe it until the pregnancy tests. Here, check this out." He gave Ross the photo album they had started and his brother-in-law immediately started to ooh and aah over each sonogram still.

"Oh my god, it's even cuter than Emma! Oohh, look at that! How far along -?"

"Around nine weeks. I mean, eleven weeks gestational age, but – what?" Ross just stared at him and then shook his head. "What's going on?"

"I could ask you that. How can you be so cool? When I found out that Rachel was pregnant, I couldn't think straight for days. Weeks! And with Ben, too! It was a total shock both times, and now you – I thought you two had given up long since. And you're not shocked?"

Chandler mentally kicked himself. "It's a different situation. Rachel and Carole both kinda sprung it on you rather suddenly, so of course you were shocked. But Monica and I – well, let's say, I knew something was up, so it wasn't that much of a surprise."

"Yeah, I guess, but still! When did you find out?"

"Ten days ago. I know, I know, but Monica wanted to tell you all together at our birthday party, so don't blame me, okay? We haven't told anyone else yet, except your parents."

"No one? What about your parents?"

Chandler shrugged. "Not yet. We'll phone them on my birthday, if they don't phone us before that."

Ross just shook his head that and turned back to the photo album, wincing slightly at Monica's belly pictures and getting all hung-up over the sonogram stills again. "Wow. These are so – hey, do you remember how Rachel couldn't see Emma?"

.

.

As soon as Phoebe and Mike with their three kids arrived, the twins took David, Lily and Francis immediately in tow to show them their treehouse in the yard. Chandler managed to hide the photo album under the sofa just in time, but he could have saved himself the trouble. Only two minutes later 8 year old Lily burst into the room and almost threw herself at Monica.

"Auntie Monica, can I see the baby?"

"What?! What do you mean?"

"The baby! Erica said you will have a baby and they already saw it! I wanna see it too!"

Monica just shook her head and threw up her hands. "Oh no, it was supposed to be a surprise …!"

"What's going on?" Phoebe asked bewildered. "Oooh, are you going to adopt again? Oh, that's so exciting!"

"No! No, we couldn't go through all that hassle again, you know that!"

"What's abbodtion?" Lily demanded and pouted when Mike drew her away from Monica to shush her. Phoebe frowned and then her face lit up again.

"I know, you found a surrogate! Oohh, who is it? Do we know her?"

"No! Phoebe! It's not a surrogate." Monica shrugged resignedly and took a deep breath. "It's me. I'm pregnant."

Phoebe stared wide-eyed at her. "Oh my god! You are pregnant? Really?"

"Yes, really. I am pregnant!" Monica smiled back at her, her hands protectively cradling her abdomen.

"See, I told you!" Lily crowed from between Mike's knees who silently nodded and smiled at Monica and then Chandler. Phoebe looked from one to the other, narrowing her eyes at Chandler.

"And you're really the father?!" There was a sudden dead pause in which nobody exactly knew what to say, even Phoebe, who just seemed genuinely bewildered. "What?"

"PHOEBE!" Monica almost jumped at her. "How can you ask that?! Honestly –"

"But he's so cool about it! Not freaking out at all!"

Mike cleared his throat and grinned at Chandler. "Congratulations, man. We're really happy –"

Monica put her arm around Chandler and glared at Phoebe who still seemed a little perplexed. "Phoebe, of course Chandler is the father. Believe me!"

Chandler turned to look at Monica frowning. "But honey, I thought we had agreed that the father was Batman?"

Monica just groaned and grasped her head again, rolling her eyes heavenward.

.

.

Sometime later – a lot later – when the doorbell finally announced Rachel, Monica turned to them once more and held up her arms beseechingly.

"Please everybody remember to not tell her! Please, I really want to tell at least one of you myself! Please?"

After they had all raised their hands and solemnly promised silence, she went to open the door, and by the time Chandler noticed that she was still holding his birthday picture that she had shown Phoebe it was too late. After Emma and Leo in turn had been hugged and squeezed, and Rachel held close and air kissed and the new high heels been admired and exclaimed over, Rachel noticed the picture and took it up to look at it and her mouth fell open.

"OH MY GOD, Monica! Is it -? Are you -? Oh god, please tell me yes, please tell me – oh yay! Yay!"

"What? What's going on? What is this?" Emma pleaded while Monica and Rachel fell into each other's arms, screaming at each other. "DADDY!"

As Ross winced and followed his daughter's summons Rachel waved him over excitedly. "Ross! Ross! Guess what! Monica's pregnant!"

"Yes, I know. Oh, are those the new shoes? Wow, they're really - flimsy? What? I didn't say I don't like them! Though actually they seem rather -"

"You **knew** already?"

"Yes, I've actually known for a while." Ross leaned in for a kiss and withdrew again when Rachel glared at him.

"You **knew** and you didn't tell me?"

Monica threw up her hands. "I WANTED IT TO BE A SURPRISE!"

.

.

When Joey finally arrived, with all seven kids immediately hanging on or dragging after him, they were already on the second course.

"Hey! What's this! You started without me?!"

"Sorry, Joe, we couldn't wait any longer. Monica was afraid her salad would start to wilt."

"Don't worry, I put your share aside for you."

"Aw, thanks Mon. So here's my birthday girl! Congratulations!" He pulled her into a bear hug and lifted her up until she squealed and laughed helplessly. "And you look so great! Has Chandler finally been feeding you properly? What?" He stared bewildered at the others who were snorting into their hands or in Ross' case actually doubling up with laughter. "What's going on?" Then he glared indignantly. "Has someone painted on my face again on the plane?"

"No, Joey, you're fine. It's me. And what you said -" Monica laughed again, wiping tears from her eyes.

"What did I say? That you look good?" Joey frowned and looked her up and down. "But you do! Really! Though actually you smell a little, well –"

"What? Like what?"

Joey winced. "Nono, it's hardly noticeable, but –"

"Are you sure it's not you?" He looked indignant at that.

"No, I don't throw up on planes anymore!" Monica's mouth fell open.

"Oh my god, do I – um, oh god .."

"Relax, it's no big deal, happens to all of us, right?"

Chandler put his arm around Monica to support her. "Honey, are you alright?" She shook her head at him and tried to breathe deeply, then winced and stiffened, hurriedly tearing away and bolting for the kitchen.

"Ug … nobody tell him! … arg … Nobody, you hear me! It's MY surrppp –"

Chandler grinned reassuringly at Joey and held him back when he made as if to follow her.

"It's alright Joe, no big deal. She's okay."

"But she's throwing up! Ugh! How can she be alright? What's the matter with her? Is she still sick?"

"No. But there's a reason she wants to tell you herself. You're the only one who doesn't know yet."

"Know what?"

"We know! We know! We know!" the twins started to chant promptly, making Joey's confusion complete. He stared at the kids, then to the kitchen where Monica could be heard running the tab and then back at Chandler again, who waited patiently for the penny to drop, grinning goofily at him. Joey shook his head bewildered and turned to the kids that still hung around him, grabbing Francis and pulling him from his back when he tried to clamber up to his shoulders.

"You know too? And you? Oh god, Monica, please, I'm starving! You can tell me later, I wanna eat now. And you, if you don't tell me, get off my back!"

"Unca Joey, unca Joey, you wann I tell you? I know!"

"Francis Joseph Hanigan!" Phoebe got to her son just in time to stop him whispering his version of the secret in Joey's ear. Joey groaned and looked beseechingly at Monica who had returned from the kitchen, still a little green around the gills.

"Monica, please, whatever it is, stop torturing me and let me eat!"

Chandler slipped his arm around Monica's waist and smiled at Joey as they stood before him. She checked first that nobody dared to spoil the final revelation and then took a deep breath.

"Joey - I'm pregnant."

Joey frowned. "That's the big surprise? That you're pregnant? Why is that such a big – wait a minute. Wait. " He stared at her. "YOU?! You are pregnant? And you?" He turned to Chandler who slapped him on the shoulder. "You got her pregnant? Oh my god! How? When?"

"Sorry, Joe, but if YOU don't know how ..."

"Yeah, okay. But you guys! This is unbelievable! Why didn't you phone me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"We actually haven't known this for that long either, Joe."

"When? How far along are you?"

"Just two and a half months. We found out last week only."

"Oh my god." Joey stared reverently at her belly. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"How should we know? It's far too early! Though Chandler thinks it's a girl."

"Oh yeah?" Joey clapped Chandler on the shoulder. "Well in that case –" he squatted before Monica and grinned at her belly goofily. "How **yooouu** doing?!"

.

.

"Chandler, please, I'm trying to sleep."

"Oh, just once more. I'll make it quick, I promise."

"Oh god. Okay, but please not that song again."

"Aw. No, don't worry, I've got a load of all new old songs."

"That was what I was afraid of ..."

Chandler scooted downwards until his head was on a level with Monica's hips and gently stroked her belly with one hand as he started to croon.

"_I believe in miracles – where you from, you sexy thing, sexy thing you?" *  
_

Monica smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"_I believe in miracles, since you came along, you sexy thing!_

_Where did you come from, baby? How did you know I needed you?"_

Monica's hand in his hair clenched at that and he felt her breath hitch.

"_How did you know I needed you so badly? How did you know I'd give my heart gladly?"_

Monica sighed softly and then she started to sing along with him.

"_Yesterday I was one of the lonely people – now you're lying close to me, making love to me …"_

He never actually got to finish the song.

.

.

.

*"You Sexy Thing", Hot Chocolate, 1975

_A/N: I was just working on the story when I saw on Twitter that Hot Chocolate singer Errol Brown had passed away. I never was a fan, only knew some of their songs, but I've always loved "You Sexy Thing" and just had to include it, if only as a dedication. And the lyrics fit to – perfection. _

_And if you've never watched 'Masters of Sex', try the pilot at least. I wasn't kidding, he really keeps his shirt on during!_


	10. Listen to your Heart

**Day 65 (week 10/12), 3 a.m.**

When his phone on the nightstand started to vibrate and buzz it didn't wake him up, because he was already awake, had actually been for about an hour or so. For the last two weeks or thereabouts – ever since the existence of the little tough cookie had been confirmed – he had been losing sleep.

It varied a lot. Sometimes he would fall asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow (and his hand had come to rest on its accustomed place under Monica's navel), only to wake up again sometime in the small hours, wide awake again and completely unable to go back to sleep. Or he would lie awake for hours and then fall into an uneasy light sleep that made him feel like he hadn't slept at all. And once he was awake nothing could make him fall asleep again. Getting up to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen for a glass of milk, or reading something particularly boring or watching TV – nothing really helped. Not even spooning up to Monica and listening to her steady breathing, though that had proven to be the most soothing remedy of all throughout.

He told himself that it was just a phase, that he was worried and unsettled now that Monica's pregnancy was no longer a cherished hope and dream, but had become an undeniable fact, that something that he had never really believed could happen was now reality. And that his insomnia was just his way of adjusting to it. He tried to tell himself that it had been almost exactly like this when they had started their new life in Westchester, with the twins just a few days old, and everything was different. But it was no use, actually during those days he had been much too tired out to lose much sleep with worrying. The twins hadn't let him worry, hadn't even allowed him any time to at least reflect on everything, claiming all his attention and care nonstop. That had actually helped him, because he had been able to do something about it, lose himself in the constant stress. But here there was nothing really he could do. It was Monica who was pregnant, her uterus the little tough cookie resided in and would do so for more than half a year at least still if all went well. Monica carried their baby, nurtured it, felt it grow in her body, and all he could do was hover around her, watch her, sing to the baby and keep up their silent one-sided communication through his thoughts and his hand on her belly. And try not to succumb to worry and anxiety.

He took up the phone as he got out of bed and left the bedroom as silently as possible before he answered the call, not even glancing at the number. There was only one person who would call him at this hour on this day.

"Mornin' dad", he said, keeping his voice low.

"Happy birthday toooo yoooouuu … Happy birthday to yooouu … Haaappy birthday, Mr President …" Yup, his dad still had his Marilyn Monroe act down pat, right down to the breathless sexy-girlie voice. Though the joke was rather worn by now, it still made Chandler grin. And actually feel a lot better.

"Aw, thanks dad. That's really sweet of you."

"How are you, dear?"

"Well … older?"

"Aw, don't say that. You're still my little boy. How's Monica? Are you celebrating?"

"Um, no, actually she's asleep …"

"What? But it's your birthday!"

"It's also 3 in the morning here, dad."

"Wh- - oh dear. Oh, I'm sorry. I did it again, didn't I?"

"Yeah. But it's okay, never mind. I was awake anyway."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am. Really. Actually, there's something we need to tell you – oh, here's Monica. Yeah, I don't know, I tried not to wake her, but – hang on, dad."

Monica smiled and bent down to kiss him, before taking the phone and settling on the sofa next to him while he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Hi Charles … ups, sorry, Helena … yeah, I know. Sorry. No … Oh, thank you, that's so sweet! Yes, two weeks ago … Yes, the twins are fine … Um, yeah, about that. I thought Chandler wanted to tell you – no? Really? Me? Okay … Well, the thing is, I'm pregnant."

Chandler tightened his grip while she listened to his dad's exclamations with a wide, triumphant smile on her face. She had always been able to relate to his zeal and ready enthusiasm much better than he could.

"Yeah, that it is, it's really absolutely unbelievable! It took me totally by surprise, I hadn't the slightest idea … Chandler actually knew before me, I don't know how, but he did." She looked at him and grinned. "And he hasn't freaked out once, everybody expects him to do it, but he just won't. He keeps singing to the baby … What? Oh, you know, songs. Like 'Be my Baby' – that really drove me crazy, and just last week he sang 'You –' what?" She looked at him as he frantically signaled her not to mention that, but it was no use. "You Sexy Thing". You know that – oh, you know it. You've sung it too? Really? With Chandler actually? Well, I never! No I didn't know that …"

Chandler groaned and buried his face in his hands while Monica smile turned quizzical.

"Really? Oh that's so sweet! Yes, I'd love to see that! Can you email it to me?" She put her hand over the phone and grinned at Chandler excitedly. "He's got a clip of you singing it with him, can you believe that?" She took her hand away again. "Oooohh, I can't wait! And the twins too, they'll love to see it!"

Chandler closed his eyes and sighed.

.

.

When he finally heard from his mother, it was much later in the day, late afternoon in fact. Her assistant had called him twice during the day to confirm that he was available, but couldn't put him through because his mother was signing in a bookstore in Boston and couldn't tear herself away from her desk where the queue of fans was almost a block long by now. Finally, with her assistant almost in hysterics, and Monica who wanted to take him on his birthday surprise treat, getting decidedly antsy, she found a minute for him.

"Chandler, darling, happy birthday! I'm so sorry about this, kiddo …"

"That's okay. You could have called tomorrow too."

"Oh no! What kind of a mom do you think that would make me?"

"Well, the kind of mom whose cleavage has its own Twitter account?"

"Oh, you heard that? Isn't that lovely?"

"Actually I'm following it."

"Aw, that's so sweet. So, how's everybody? Is Monica alright again? The kids doing okay?"

"Yes and yes, everything's fine. Monica is pregnant."

"Ah, that's good to he- WHAT?"

He grinned smugly. "Monica is pregnant. We are having a baby."

"But this – oh my … oh dear, I have to sit down. You're having a baby? Really? Now?"

"In November actually." He could just picture her with her hand at her throat, gasping just enough to get that – still very impressive – cleavage heaving, her babyblue eyes even wider than usual. And then shook himself out of it. What was wrong with him?

"Here, I'll let Monica tell you herself. Hang on." He handed the phone over and Monica immediately changed gears from pacing tiger mode to gushing enthusiast.

"Oooohhh Mrs B– Nora – it's so fantastic, I can't tell you how excited we are! Yes … oh yes he is … no, he knew before me, I really had no idea until he told me – yeah, just like that. I was in total shock – still am in fact … Yes, nine weeks – I mean eleven weeks pregnancy, you know how it is – no, we've only known for two weeks now. Two and a half. Oh. Yes. Oh yes, he is. Oh you should see him! He's singing to it all the time …"

Chandler rolled his eyes. Somehow the story of his singing had spread with such lightning speed – gone viral as Erica called it – that he was now known as the Babysinger all over their neighborhood. And at work too. People kept asking him for clips.

"Yeah. Of course. Well, I don't want to keep you – no, of course not, actually we have plans too. Yes, thank you. Bye, Mrs B- Nora! Here's Chandler back." He took the phone back from her.

"Mom? Don't you have to go back –"

"Chandler, dear, I'll be in New York on Monday, could you meet me then? In the afternoon?"

"On Monday? Um – yeah, sure, is three okay? Or three-ish?"

"Oh, yes, that's perfect. I'll be at the Plaza."

"Again? Alright. What's going on?"

"Oh kiddo, no need to sound so apprehensive, I just want to talk to you, that's all. And now I really need to get back. Oh my god, that woman is dragging a whole trolley of my books and I can't feel my wrist anymore … Goodbye, darling, have fun!"

"Bye mom. You too." But she had already hung up.

.

**Day 67 (week 10/12)  
**

.

"Oh, I'm so happy you're here and we can have that talk, kiddo."

"Well, thanks. About what though?"

Her eyes widened again. "About the baby of course! Well, that, but actually about you."

"Me?"

"Yes. Well, you know, I was so surprised when you told me – it was a real shock – that I couldn't think straight, but there was something that Monica said, about how much you are into that baby already, how much you care – oh, don't be like that, it's really so sweet! Well, that made me remember, and I knew I really had to talk to you."

"Remember what?"

"Remember what it was like when I was pregnant with you."

When the bellman at the Plaza had finally let him go up to her suite, she had waited already at the door and almost thrown herself at him, enveloping him in a cloud of perfume that he vaguely remembered from his childhood, but couldn't put a name to anymore. Then she had made a big fuss about him, told her assistant to get them coffee and then take the rest of the day off, lamented about how tired he looked and firmly settled him on the sofa in the living-room of her suite, with herself draped elegantly on the other end. Looking at her he couldn't help marveling for what seemed like the thousandth time in his life how little she had changed, hardly aged in any way since his wedding day, or even the time he had started living in the Village after college. Still churning out those clunky book bricks which invariably had the heroines and heroes with their nipples or more showing on the covers twice a year like clockwork, going through husbands like Joey used to go through pizza on Friday nights, and forever charming the socks off her agents, editors and talk show hosts everywhere she went, always on the move. Maybe that was her secret, that she was simply too restless and active for age to catch up with her. It made him wonder how she had managed to keep still long enough to have him. And right on the heels of that thought came the realization that he had never before actually asked himself – or her – just what that had been like. Somehow he had never dared to ask. And later not cared anymore.

"Well, good thing you remember it then. I'm afraid I don't. It's all very dark to me still."

She managed to look reproachful and mildly amused at the same time and sighed gently.

"I was still so young. Still a teenager and sooo naïve. I'd had boyfriends before I met your father, lots actually, but I still believed marriage would be completely different. That once you were married, everything would change as if by magic, and you'd live in a sort of eternal bliss. Like in a book. I don't know why Charles wanted to marry me, he wasn't that much older and had no reason to tie himself down that way. Maybe he wanted to try something – different. I don't know. But we got married and right after the wedding I decided to become pregnant."

Chandler started and she smiled widely.

"Yeah. Just like that. I thought that a perfect marriage needed a baby. I had no idea what a pregnancy would do to me, or what it meant to have a child, about the responsibility and all. I just got the idea in my head that I needed to get pregnant. And so I forgot to take the pill a few times, or so I told Charles later, but actually it was more like all the time."

Chandler opened his mouth and then shut it again when he simply couldn't think of anything to say.

"Oh yes, I know, your father still thinks you were an accident. Later, when I realized how much of a shock it had been for him, how unexpected, I somehow convinced myself that you really had been that. But the truth was – you were anything but. I knew, you see. I got pregnant almost right away, and I knew about it from the first day."

Chandler cleared his throat, swallowed and tried again. "What … day was this?"

Nora Bing smiled and put out her hand, gently stroking his cheek.

"We got married in June" she said at length. "And I got pregnant on the fifth of July. The day after Independence Day 1967. Actually we were living in Canada then, where my folks were, so Charles could not be drafted, but we still celebrated it. In our own way at least."

"That's when I was -"

"Yes! I swear! That was the day! It wasn't until I missed my period that I was really sure, but I had reason to believe that it happened in the night of the fourth. So I hoped. And waited. And I thought about you every day. Everywhere, all the time, but most of all just before I went to sleep. It took until mid-August until I was really sure. But I still waited some more, telling myself that something still could go wrong. Also I had kinda realized by then that your father wouldn't be exactly thrilled. At that time he was trying to put a show of his own together and he had invested all his money and then some in it, so even if he had wanted kids there was no way he would have even considered it at that time. But of course by then it was too late."

"When did you tell him?"

She sighed. "On his birthday."

"But that's in November!"

"Yeah. I know. Four months. Almost five. I was already starting to show. I kept stalling, kept waiting for the right moment, maybe hoping he would find out himself. Actually I was terrified of his reaction by then. On his birthday I decided to stop waiting. And told him."

Chandler just looked at her expectantly and his mother winced at little.

"Well, let's say it was quite a shock. He didn't say anything, just took me to the doctor right away – I hadn't gone myself in all that time – and when the doc confirmed it – you - he just went out and got drunk. He was gone for a week. Then he returned with the mother of all hangovers and apologized and then we went on much as before. He adjusted to the situation – or at least tried to. It was a difficult time ... Chandler? What's the matter, dear?"

He had gotten up and was heading for the balcony before he even realized what he was doing.

"… just some fresh air" he mumbled. Out on the balcony he put his hands on the banister, his eyes closed, and started to take deep breaths.

"Chandler … Oh kiddo, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Was this why you – separated? Why he took off?"

"NO!" The expression of surprise, shock even, actually showed him her true age, if only for a moment. "You have got to believe me! That was much later, and not because of you. Actually you were the reason we stayed together as long as we did. He loved you. Even before you were born he loved you. It just took him a while to get used to you. But then – why there were times when I was actually jealous because he was so much into you." She put a hand on his arm. "Come on, I need to show you something."

Back inside she took a black plastic case off a side table and handed it to him. "Here. That's for you. Happy birthday. Go on, open it."

The case had a lid and inside was –

"What's that? A stethoscope?"

Nora smiled happily. "Back then we didn't have sonograms, or at least the GPs didn't have them yet. Whenever I had an appointment the doctor would listen to your heartbeat with this. He let me listen too, and when I first heard you I knew I wanted to have this. So I pinched it."

Chandler looked at her surprised and then the corners of his mouth twitched as she lowered her eyes demurely. "Yeah, I know – I just couldn't resist. And I think he noticed – he must have – but he never said anything. Could be he just put it on the bill and Charles paid it – he never said anything either. I didn't care. All that mattered was that I could listen to you now. And I did. Every day."

Chandler stared down at the stethoscope in his hand and swallowed, then he slowly raised it and put the ear pieces in his ear. Nora took up the headpiece and gently put it on her breast, her smile widening as his jaw dropped.

"You weren't this loud" she said. "At times you were really hard to get even, depending on how you were lying. But there were a lot of times when you came in loud and clear." She closed her hands around the head piece and put it back in his hands. "And I loved listening to you. So much."

"Did he too?"

"Your father? Of course he did. For hours. Sometimes we even fought over this, about who would get to listen to you first, until he got his own. Actually what he got was a proper fetal stethoscope, you know, one of those things that look like a trumpet. Maybe you should get that, I'm actually not sure you can hear your baby with this, not this early at least."

He took out the ear pieces and closed his hands around the tubes. "I'll try anyway."

Actually he could hardly wait and something must have shown on his face, because Nora twinkled at him and then laughed. "Oh I hope you will. I wish I could try it too. It's been so long."

Chandler carefully put the stethoscope back in the plastic case. When he opened his briefcase to put it in, he realized he had completely forgotten to show her the baby album he had brought and handed it over. Nora looked at it for a moment, then grinned wryly and got out her glasses before she settled on the sofa again to look at it.

"Oh my, look at that! Oh, I wish I could have had that from you. This is so amazing!"

Putting on his own glasses, Chandler sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, it is. But actually this – that stethoscope? That's even better." He kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you so much for letting me have it. And for stealing it in the first place."

"You're welcome, kiddo."

.

.

"Well? Can you hear anything?"

"Um – not sure … oh, yes, hang on, there's something … yup, something's definitely there … Oh yes. Oh yes. Yes! Yes!"

"What? What is it?!"

"Yes. I can hear it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Your cheese sandwich has just now cleared your pancreas … Ouch, careful with that!"

Snorting, Monica grabbed the earpieces and put them in her own ears, closing her eyes, and Chandler lay back again looking at her belly and gently stroking the area under her navel which was still as flat and firm as always. No wonder really, for all he knew the little tough cookie was still no more than one and a half inches long and its heart would hardly be bigger than a pinhead. But even if he couldn't actually hear his baby's heartbeat, it was still so amazing just being able to hear the same sounds it did, the sounds that made up his baby's little world. Totally fascinating and absorbing. And so very, very soothing too.

And speaking of sounds …

'_I hear your heart beating everywhere / When we're apart I can close my eyes and hear you there / _

_I hear your heart beating everywhere, everywhere I go …' *  
_

_._

_._

_._

_A/N: * "Everywhere I go", from 'I'm Alive', 1993, by Jackson Browne. If you don't know it, try it, it's a lovely song._


	11. Seeing Auras

**Day 73 (Week 11/13)**

.

"Are you really sure?"

"Oh yes!"

"Well, I still can't see it. And I should!"

"But I do. I'm telling you it's there!"

"Really? Then why can't I see it? I'm not even sure I can feel it!"

"Maybe it's the angle … Wait - let's try this. Stand in front of the mirror. No, sideways, like that – there you go. Now hold that up and breathe out … See?"

Standing close behind her he put one hand over her hips holding her lightly against him and then very gently stroked her abdomen with the edge of his index finger. As it went down from her navel to her mound it described a very slight curve. Almost unnoticeable but definitely there. Monica put a hand to her mouth as she stared at her belly in the mirror, her breath starting to hitch.

"Oh my god …"

Chandler kissed her on the shoulder and then on her neck.

"Told you. Also our baby's been officially a fetus for almost two weeks now."

Her brows furrowed. "Only now? I thought it was a fetus right away."

"Nope. An embryo. Which after nine weeks is called a fetus."

"Well, it's still a baby to me. Our baby." Without taking her eyes from her belly in the mirror she leaned back into his embrace and smiled. "I can't believe I'm finally seeing it … It's been such a long time already."

"You've only just now entered your second trimester …"

"Still. I just can't wait. Oh, don't stop …"

"Mmmh." He continued to stroke the tiny bump with one hand while supporting her against him with one arm across her hips and she molded her back into him, resting her head on his shoulders. As her buttocks in the thin pajama pants pressed against his thighs, he felt himself stirring, and he could tell by the way she subtly shifted and then even rubbed against him that she was very much aware of it. Still she wouldn't take her eyes from his stroking finger in the mirror, nor would he stop the gentle up and down movement. After a little while of this she unhurriedly started to push down her pants over her hips, until they slid down her legs and stepped out of them without looking down. Then, her eyes still glued to her belly in the mirror and partially hindered by his growing erection she started tugging and pushing at his boxers, and at last succeeded in getting them off him. Chandler shifted and bent his knees just a little until he could push his penis between her thighs, and brought his other hand up to her breasts, never losing a beat with his stroking finger on her belly. Monica, on her toes now, and breathing noticeably harder, slowly started to rub herself on him, determinedly keeping her eyes open and looking at his hand on her belly. At last he tightened his grip on her and slowly went down on his knees until he was kneeling on the carpet, still keeping her pressed against him. Monica sprawled her legs a little until she was sitting on his lap facing away from him, then she took him in hand, caressing and guiding him in until they were joined at last, rocking gently, almost dreamily. He buried his face in her hair at her shoulder, his eyes shut tight in concentration.

"Oooohhh …. Oh my …. Are you …?"

"No …. no … um, yes. Oh – oh god. Not yet. But soon …"

"Sweety, it's alright, don't hold back for me …"

He drew a deep breath and clenched his teeth, then, when he had found his rhythm again he spread the fingers of his hand on her belly and switched the stroking from his index finger to his thumb. Spread wide the tip of his index finger just about reached her clit. It made Monica gasp and squirm and finally stiffen as her orgasm hit. Only then she closed her eyes, just as he opened his and, heaving a deep sigh, let himself go. Monica leaned forward still shuddering and got on her hands and knees as he finally let go of her belly and kissed her spine and the dimples just over her buttocks, sliding his hands over her thighs and hips.

"Oh, that was good. Sooo good …" She turned around and came back into his arms to cuddle and kiss. "Can you show me again tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow …?!"

.

**Day 79 (Week 12/14)**

.

The twin's birthdays always had been exhausting and stressful, with no exception, from the very first one when they had to leave the packing up and moving preparations to rush Erica to the hospital and stay with her while she gave birth to them. Which was now exactly ten years ago. Ten years. Ten birthdays, and each and every one as memorable as that day zero. On their first birthday the twins had taken their first steps almost simultaneously when they found they couldn't chase down Emma as efficiently by just crawling after her. On their second birthday Joey had finally succeeded in teaching them their first intelligible English words, after months of increasingly unintelligible twinspeak babbling. That those words were 'pizza' and 'hot' and 'buddy' didn't really matter, at least then. On their third birthday Phoebe had insisted on coming although she had already been past her due date and promptly gone into labor just as they were getting ready to eat the big double birthday cake. David had been born that same day just minutes before midnight too, which had let Phoebe decide to always celebrate his birthdays together with the twins afterwards. Fortunately they didn't mind that in any way, though they had been very upset when most of the party guests had to leave just as they had managed to blow out all six candles. Chandler would never forget their indignant howls. Or the fight they had gotten into on their fourth birthday when Ross had given them a toy dinosaur each and they had both wanted the T-Rex. By their fifth birthday everyone had finally wised up enough to give them exactly the same, except by that time their interests had started to diverge a little, and Erica had sulked for hours when she got the same Spongebob t-shirt as Jack instead of the one with a unicorn on it she had really wanted. Joey had actually screwed up that one, but all of them had gotten it wrong over the years, even he. Except Monica of course. She also always managed to find something for them to do on that day or the following weekend that they both liked, be it a trip to the zoo (sixth birthday, where Jack had gotten so enamored of the elephants he had managed to get away from them for another look and they had spent a frantic half hour searching him), or Seaworld in San Diego where they both had nearly fallen into the petting basin (seventh birthday), or the dinosaur exhibition in the Natural History museum where Ross had bored them to sleep with his lecture about footprints (eighth birthday) or the one last year, the most memorable one so far as he was concerned. It had been shortly after they found that secret photo album and to his and Monica's surprise they had both wanted to be taken to the exact same places and sights they had taken Erica on that day eleven years ago, including the Empire State Building, Ground Zero, Central Park (where they also needed to check out the zoo to see if it really was the same as the one in the Madagascar movie), the statue of Liberty (where they made him wear that crown again) and everything else, even those places they already had been too before. They had even visited their old neighborhood and looked in at Central Perk's although that turned out to be a major disappointment. The café was now a Starbucks, Gunther no longer worked there and that old orange couch they had spent so many happy hours on had been thrown out long since. It had upset Monica – and him too – much more than he cared to admit. But the twins had been happy and there had been no major disasters that day.

Nor had there been today – so far. Monica had spent nearly all of last week in organizing the trip to Adventureland on Long Island and it had gone without a hitch – naturally. Well, except that Erica had dropped her brand new phone during the ride down the Adventure Falls, but fortunately had retrieved it before it could fall into the water. Also two of her friends that had come with them now wanted to spend the night, and as soon as the boys heard that, all three of Jack's friends also wanted to stay over – no matter that they didn't have so much as a toothbrush between them. Since it didn't worry Monica, he was determined not to let it worry him either.

In fact, all that mattered was that Monica was happy. She had been too busy with the party preparations, the birthday cake and big barbecue to come with them, although they could have used another grown-up with that wild horde of preteens in the park. But secretly he had been rather relieved when she'd opted to stay at home. She still tired out far too quickly for his taste and though the morning sickness had by now mostly abated, there were still occasional relapses. And worrying about the little tough cookie and how it fared had by now become second nature to him.

Now the day was finally winding up. While Monica and two other parents tried to tire the kids out with party games in the deepening dusk, Phoebe and Mike helped him to clear the tables and straighten the yard. Just as they'd gone back to the kitchen to stow the last things away and turn on the dishwasher, Mike and Phoebe exchanged a look and a silent nod. Then Mike took up a place by the door for all the world as if he was standing guard, while Phoebe grinned at him and started rummaging in her big shoulder bag.

"What's going on?" Chandler asked honestly bewildered.

"Oh, nothing much. It's just, I've got a late birthday present for you. I know" she held up her hand before he could say anything. "We don't do that – much anyway. But I was so mean to you last time –"

"What? What are you talking about?"

Phoebe looked at Mike who just looked stonily back and Chandler suddenly had an idea that this was a subject the two of them had discussed very long and earnestly.

"You know, when I asked if you were really the father -"

"But that's … that wasn't mean, I know you didn't mean it that way."

"I know! I didn't! I'm just not used to you being so – so – "

"Sensible? Mature? Grown-up?"

Phoebe snorted. "Please! No, I mean, I can't read you anymore, and so I still see you like you used to be. You know back then, before this."

Chandler looked bewildered at Mike who just shrugged. "What do you mean, you can't read me anymore? When could you read me? In a past life when I was a book?"

"Yes – I mean no! Not a past life, before this here. And I mean your aura. I can't see it anymore!"

"You used to see my aura?"

"Of course! All of you actually. Well, not all the time. When you came back from London, I couldn't see your aura anymore. But I thought it was because I was pregnant. I could still see a bit of Monica's aura though, but it had gone a little – fuzzy."

"And now? How does she look now?"

"Oh – well, pregnant. And happy. Actually if I didn't know she was pregnant I wouldn't be able to tell from her aura, because it's too soon. I can't see the baby yet. But she's really happy. And when she told us, you looked kind of invisible again to me, so … yeah, I know. I'm sorry. It was stupid."

"Aw, Pheebs, don't worry about it. We've known each other how long now? 23 years? I know what you're like."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Well – not stupid."

"Crazy? Weird? Ditzy? Addled?"

"No, of course not …"

"Yes!" said Mike, putting his arms around her from behind. "And we love you for it, don't we?"

"Michael Enoch Hanigan …!"

"… Enoch …? Your middle name is - ?!" Mike rolled his eyes. "Wow, that's almost as bad as Mu-" he clapped a hand to his mouth just in time, only to see Phoebe's lips twitch at the corners. When he stared at her, she smiled widely, mouthing 'Muriel' at him and winking. Then Mike cleared his throat once more and she got serious again all of a sudden.

"Yeah, I still don't know about that thing with the aura. I kinda used to think it gets invisible when you have a secret, but you don't have one right now, do you?"

"Secret? Me? Why should I have a secret …?" He felt himself grow hot under the collar and strove desperately to keep his face blank.

"I know, but I still think it has something to do with the baby. That your aura is so hard to see I mean. Oh, I meant to ask you, how did you do it?"

"Honey, we've been over this …"

"But, Pheebs, you were pregnant four times, if you don't know how it works –"

"Please, you know what I mean! You told us you were both unable to have kids, so –"

"I don't know, Pheebs." He forced himself to look her squarely in the eyes, knowing full well how good she was at detecting lies when she really paid attention. But he'd be damned if he just let her pry it out of him without even trying. Not this time. "It just happened. Somehow we managed to do it. And we were as surprised about it as you." As she opened her mouth he desperately went on to stop her from getting a question in. From digging the truth out of him. "You know my mother knew from the very first day that she was pregnant with me?"

"Oh! Really? No, I didn't know that. Oh that's so sweet!"

"Yeah. She even told me the date I was conceived. That's so – awesome."

"Aw. I wish I knew mine. Or the date our kids were made. But we always could only narrow it down to a week or so, because we had been doing it so often –" Mike cleared his throat again "- anyway, that's so cool. I wish I knew exactly when my kids were started."

"Like with the triplets." Her eyes went wide at this. "When they were implanted? I still remember that day if you don't."

"Oh my god, you're right! I knew from the very first day with them! I even talked to them when they were still in that Petri dish … Oh my god. And then I kept thinking about them when they were in me, and talked to them, tried to encourage them to take hold, you know, grab on there …"

"You sat upside down on the chair."

"Yes, and I got all dizzy from that. But it worked."

And Chandler knew suddenly that it wouldn't have worked if she hadn't gone to all that trouble. Talking. Singing. Thinking. Rooting for them. All the time. And again there was a fleeting moment where he felt the urge to share his own experience with her. But here was Mike who kept looking at him in a decidedly strange way and now cleared his throat again, presumably to get Phoebe out of her sentimental trance. And the moment – and the urge - passed again, to his utter relief.

"Yeah, well … where were we? Never mind. I wanted to give this to you." She held out something small to him, like a tiny plastic figurine and as he took it he realized it was a memory stick, in the form of a baby doll.

"I wrote you a song" she went on. "And I wanted to sing it to you, but I couldn't bring my guitar to the park, and anyway, I wanted you to hear it first and by yourself, so we put it on this stick. Happy belated birthday."

"Aw. A song? For me? That's so sweet!"

"Well, Mike wants to put it on Youtube, he thinks it could be a real hit. But I wrote it just for you. You can show it of course, to Monica and the twins, but –"

Chandler closed his hand around the stick. "You know what? I'm going to listen to it now." And he headed for the door.

"Wait, where are you – what about the others?"

"Well, how long is it?"

"Not long" Mike said. "Around 3 minutes, five tops."

"I could make it longer, in fact I'm not sure it's really finished –"

"We can watch it in the office then, come on." Chandler led the way and Mike fell in beside him, leaving Phoebe no choice but to follow them.

In the office Chandler started up his laptop and inserted the stick into one of the USB slots, amusedly noting that the red working light lit up right on the baby's mouth, making it look like it was yelling it's head off. The directory appeared showing a single file on the stick on which he clicked to start it. And there was Phoebe, sitting on a barstool holding her guitar and looking into the camera expectantly. He faintly heard someone, Mike presumably, say "Action!" which made Phoebe laugh and double up over her guitar. And as always once she got laughing she couldn't stop.

"Aw, why did you leave that in? I told you to cut that out!"

"I thought Chandler would like it."

"I do too. I've always wanted a video of you laughing." Phoebe cuffed him and Chandler winced. "Seriously, you have a great laugh."

"Aw, you're just saying that – oh, there, it's starting! That's my song!"

Phoebe on the screen had somehow gotten over her laughing fit and started her song, accompanying herself on the guitar with only a few simple chords which she had combined to a rather catchy tune.

.

_I've wished and waited for so long / hoping for my ba-by /_

_Now I'm singing you my song / waiting for my ba-by _

_Hoping, wishing, waiting, loving / Singing to my baay-byy - - girl!_

_Little baby, daddy's here / thinking of my ba-by /_

_I'll always be here, never fear / looking for my ba-by_

_Listening, talking, touching, loving / Singing to my baay-byy - - girl!_

_Little baby, can you hear me / talking to my ba-by /_

_Little baby, can you feel me / reaching for my ba-by /_

_Hoping, wishing, waiting, loving / Singing to my baay-byy – girl!_

.

Chandler kept staring at the screen long after the song had finished, almost entranced. As with all of Phoebe's songs the lyrics at times didn't quite fit the rhythm and the rhymes were a little wonky, but the emotion she conveyed in her singing was very intense.

"Phoebe … it's beautiful!" he said at length. "How did you know – I mean, how did you get it so – perfect?"

He wasn't sure but it seemed to him she actually blushed. "Wow, Chandler Bing actually complimenting my song? Wonders will never cease!"

"I'm serious! It's really beautiful." He clicked on the file again to listen to it again.

"Told you" Mike said casually. "On Youtube that tune would go viral within the week."

"But I wrote it for Chandler. It's his song. You know, Monica told me all about it, how you keep singing to the baby and put your hand on her all the time, it's so sweet. And you saw the bump before she did! So I made a song about it. It's the least I can do."

When the song ended the second time Chandler started it once more. Mike shifted a little, but kept his peace, and Phoebe waited in silence too until it had finished.

"You know – I could make a boy version too, you know, just in case. Do you still think it's a girl?"

Chandler shrugged. "Actually, yes, but I could be wrong. If sonograms can be wrong, why not me too? But this is really great as it is."

She beamed at him. "Really? Oh I'm so happy you like it! Will you sing it to the baby?"

"Are you kidding? I won't sing anything else anymore. Just this."

"Oh yay! When Monica's getting bigger, I could come by and we could sing it together! Oh that'll be so much fun!"

"Well, if Monica's okay with it …"

"Yeah. But still. I could try to read the baby's aura when it gets visible."

"That sounds great too. It would save us another sonogram. Can you see the sex too?"

She stared. "The sex – why – OH, you mean the sex of the baby. Yeah, I don't know, maybe. If the baby's like you, maybe I won't be able to see it at all. Although …" Suddenly she frowned at him. "You know, I'm not sure … but I think, it's coming back." She looked him up and down, squinting. "Yeah. Yes, it is, your aura's back! A little at least. You're still dim." Mike cleared his throat again, making Chandler wonder if he should offer him a cough drop or a glass of water. "Oh, I don't mean that like it sounds! I mean, your aura is dim. But it's there, I can see it!"

He grinned and put an arm around her. "I know. It's okay. You don't have to explain." He winked at Mike and then kissed her on the temple.

"And Pheebs? Thank you again. You are absolutely, 100 %, totally forgiven."


	12. Father's Day

**Day 118 (week 17/19)**

"Aren't you sleepy yet? Come on, it's late."

"I'm coming! Just a minute."

After a while she did come, but hesitated in the door of their bedroom. Chandler, who had already been lying down, sat up again.

"What is it?"

"I don't really know …"

Chandler sighed and got out of the bed again. "So … green cheese dip and crackers? Mint chocolate chip ice cream? Or both?"

Monica puckered her face and shrugged helplessly. "I really don't know …"

"Shsh, no problem." He went to her and put his hands on her waist. "Take your time. The choice of your before-sleep-snack should not be taken lightly."

Monica closed her eyes and leaned against him wearily. "I know. I know! It's getting harder. I think I want something, and when I actually taste it, it's not right."

"So our baby's a little picky. I'd be too if my landlady/chief provider/caterer was a chef on top of all else."

Monica took a deep breath. "Alright … alright … I think I know … ooookaayy …. It's coming … It's – yes! WALNUTS!"

"Walnuts?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No. No, actually I think we still have some walnut flavored ice cream. That is if the twins haven't got at it yet …"

"Um, could you …?"

"If you get into bed now, yes, I'll get it for you. And a napkin. And a towel. Anything else?"

Monica shook her head and then held him back.

"I love you so much" she whispered. Chandler smiled at her.

"Aw, I get it, you want the whole box."

.

Much later, after he had put the box back in the fridge (she had actually managed about a third of it) and she had brushed her teeth, they settled into their usual before-sleep spooning, with his right arm under her head and their hands entwined, and with their other hands on her bump that had become much more defined in the last 4 weeks.

"Oh, I forgot, I got an appointment for another sonogram Wednesday next week. 16.30, can you make that?"

"Sure, no problem."

"You keep saying that. Is it really okay? I thought June was a busy time, with the end of the fiscal year?"

"Yeah, but I can do it from home. I told them I don't want to do presentations and campaign layouts so much right now and they're really happy to dump all that statistics stuff and consumer assessment on me."

"But you hate that."

"Hate? When I can spend more time here with you? I'm very much fine with that."

"But it's so much like your old job, I thought you never wanted to do that again."

"It's not like my old job at all. I've got my own parking space and the coffee is much better."

She sighed deeply. "You know what I mean."

"I guess. You're right – mostly. But this is more important now. I wouldn't want it any other way."

It was indeed true. Very soon after he had started in the advertising company he had come to realize that a lot of the advertising work was not all that different from what he used to do – and moreover had been good at. So good in fact that as soon as his new bosses had looked at his résumé they kept steering him towards the consumer statistics analysis work. At first he'd balked at this, but then he'd come to realize that it would entitle him to a much higher salary a lot sooner than he had thought possible. And also that there was, alas, no shortage of colleagues who could write great copy, plus that the work, though technically much the same, really was much more rewarding and fulfilling here than in his previous company. Obviously it hadn't been so much the job itself but the bad work climate and corporate identity that had made his past job so unbearable for him. He still tried to keep his hand in with copywriting and campaign layouts whenever he could, if only to prove to himself that he could do it. And because it was more fun, even if – or because – the competition was high.

"Anyway, we can look at our baby again then."

"Oooh yeah. All six inches of it. I can't wait."

"And maybe – if we want to of course – we'll get to know …"

"If it's a boy or a girl?"

"Yeah. Do you want to know?"

"Do you want to know?"

Monica screwed up her face and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe we will see it anyway, whether we want to or not."

"Well, I don't so much. And sonograms can be wrong. It doesn't matter anyway."

Monica squeezed his fingers again and closed her eyes.

"Um …"

"What is it?"

"They – Dr. Lotz asked me which tests we wanted done."

"Tests? What tests?"

"Amniocentesis. And other prenatal diagnostic testing. You know, to check for things like Down syndrome and other genetic disorders."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Do you want those tests?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes. I know we're probably in an increased risk group and all that, but I just don't see what good testing would be. It's our baby. Nothing can change that."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up for me too." He gently cupped her bump that still fitted under his hand, though barely. "I guess it's really a moo point as Joey would say."

Monica chuckled at that and pressed her face against his arm, sniffing a little with her laughter, and Chandler kissed her on the shoulder and on her neck.

"Chandler?"

"Mmmh?"

"Have you – can you feel it moving yet?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. It's hard to tell. Have you?"

"I don't know … maybe a little, you know as if it's sort of floating around, shifting. But not so that I can really say for sure."

"Well, its early days still. We'll just have to be patient."

She chuckled again. "Can you? Be patient?"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"Well no. But I can't very well kick its ass, can I?"

"Not, if you don't want your ass kicked. By me."

.

**Day 122 (week 18/20)**

.

It was as perfect a Father's Day as any father could wish for. Especially for three fathers in Citi Field where the mid June sky was a deep blue with hardly a cloud in sight. Thanks to Joey they had pretty good seats. They had beer and hot dogs and nachos. Since Joey hadn't been able to make it to New York after all, they had taken Ben with them instead, which meant they would have their own chauffeur to take them home after the game. The Mets had been in the lead from the first inning and it didn't look as if the Padres would be able to catch up ever.

Everything was as great as could be and now he was actually glad that Monica had made him go, almost kicked him out of the house even that morning. He was anxious to get back home to her and the twins and most of all the little tough cookie, but it felt really good to spend some major quality time with Ross, Mike and Ben. The latter especially, even before he had gone to college at NYU he had seen him infrequently at best, and since then never. He couldn't get over how grown up the boy already seemed. At 19 he looked much more mature than he and Ross had at that age. No Flock of Seagulls hair for that one, most definitely. Chandler wondered if the photos and videos from his dad of that time had something to do with this or if he had gotten more than just his looks from his mother. Or both.

"So, when will you get new pics of your baby?" Ross asked when he'd finished showing Ben the first sonogram video of the little tough cookie.

"Wednesday afternoon. I'll mail them to you right away."

"And how's that stethoscope working out for you?"

"Great! I wish I could record the sounds I'm getting from Monica's belly. They're unbelievable."

"Dude …"

"Yeah, they remind me of those whale singing sounds sometimes." By then Mike was grinning openly while Ross wrinkled his nose and Ben pretended to be wrapped up in the game below them.

"No heartbeat yet?"

"I think I got that too, a couple of times. Kinda like a fast ticking."

"Have you felt it moving yet?" Mike asked.

"No, not yet, and neither has Monica. But we should be getting something any day now."

"I felt Ben's first kick" Ross said proudly and shared a quick glance and a smile with his son, who obviously had heard the story before. On many occasions. As had Chandler, but Mike somehow had missed it, and that was enough to launch Ross into the story once more.

"So I kept talking to Carole's bump for hours, about just everything that came into my head, until it occurred to me to try singing –"

"You mean when Carole suggested that you try singing?" Ross shot him a dirty look.

"So I did, and when I sang that theme song from the Monkees, Ben kicked. For the first time ever. It totally freaked us out."

"Awesome."

"Yeah. I tell ya, that first kick – there's nothing like it. Nothing. Is there?"

"I saw Lily kicking" Mike offered. "I mean it showed on Phoebe's belly. I don't know if it was her foot or her hand though. She kept doing it afterwards, but every time I got my camera ready, she stopped again, that little minx."

"You remember those boxing matches the triplets had in Phoebe's belly?" Chandler asked. "And how she kept shouting at them to behave? Never worked though."

"Still doesn't" Mike said sadly. "I'm really glad they moved to Delaware. Frank Jr. told me they are now known as the Triplets of Terror all over the state."

"Have you thought about a name yet?" Ross asked.

"Well, I haven't, not really. I'm sure Monica has about a dozen all ready. But nothing definite yet."

"And at the sonogram, will you get to know - ?"

"Unless it's flaunted right under our noses, no, we'd rather wait until the birth. I don't really trust sonograms any more you know." Ross guffawed and Chandler winced when he saw that Mike and Ben too had caught on immediately. Some stories really got told too often.

"But don't you have to call it Muriel too? You did say it was a family tradition."

"Only if it's a boy."

"What?"

"Seriously. It has to be the firstborn son too. The second son gets Helena as second name. What? Where do you think my father got his stage name from? Incidentally that rules out Helena as name too if it's a girl."

"You got to be kidding. Your father's second name is –"

"I'm sooo happy I don't have a middle name" Ben muttered and they all laughed at that.

.

When he finally got to bed that night, it had gotten very late. After taking him home, the others had stayed for dinner – barbecue in the backyard – and swapped stories and memories long until after the twins had gone to bed. It wasn't until Monica nodded off on Chandler's shoulder that Ross could be persuaded to let Ben take Mike and him home. Monica, who had been too tired to protest much when he insisted on straightening the yard by himself, went off to bed ahead of him and was already fast asleep by the time he had finished. Now she was lying on her side facing him, and after he'd turned out the light he scooted down a little until his head was on a level with the bump, gently pushing up her nighty until he could cover it with both his hands. Then he closed his eyes and tried to relax, think of nothing, opening himself to the sensations of Monica's scent and warmth, the feel of her skin under his hands, the sound of her breathing and the way it made her abdomen lightly rise and sink again. He got closer still until the tip of his nose touched her navel, and then lightly brushed his lips over her skin just under it.

When the first kick came, soft and almost dreamily slow, pushing ever so gently against his left index finger, he was so lost in his trance that it took his sleep befuddled brain some moments to register the sensation and even longer to work out the meaning. When realization finally hit, he froze and held his breath, waiting and straining all senses to confirm to him that what had just happened had really happened and not just been a dream or a product of his imagination. But just when he let out his breath again, almost convinced it had been a dream, it happened again, this time against his ring finger, just over the wedding band. He couldn't tell if it was a foot or a hand that he felt or maybe the little tough cookie's head. Or even its tiny butt. Only that it was his baby that was moving around there, squirming, stretching its limbs under Monica's skin and bumping up against it, as if it was reaching out and trying to touch him.

"Knock-knock, who's there?" he said very softly as not to wake up Monica and then had to bite back the laughter that was bubbling out of him. "Hey my baby's come a-knocking! Hey baby … hey there, it's me. I'm your dad, and funny's all I have!" This time his thumb fielded the next kick. "Yeah, you know that already, don't you? I guess that's a yes. And that I love you so much, you know that too, right?" The tiny movements seemed to shift a little to the middle so that the next kick pushed right against the tip of his nose that was still touching Monica's belly over the navel. "Whoa, you're really packing a wallop here! Just don't knock yourself out!" He pursed his mouth against Monica's belly again, very softly, and to his utter delight the minuscule bump caused by the next kick rose right under his lips. He could feel the sudden tiny bulge under the skin, the minute energy behind the movement, and for a split second even the texture of the tiny body part straining against him. When it withdrew again he pursed his lips, trying to follow it in and keep up the fleeting contact a tiny bit longer.

Then Monica suddenly shifted sleepily under his hands, turning on her back, one of her arms grazing his shoulder. Still half asleep she groped for him and drew up her knees. When her thigh pressed against his arm, she finally came fully awake.

"Chandler? Umm …. what -?"

"Shh. The baby just moved!"

"… what ..?" For a moment she lay utterly still, then her hands came down over his, searching slowly but urgently. "The baby – are you sure?"

"Well, either that or your intestine is really active right n- - - - whoa, whoa, there! There it was, did you -?"

"Oh … oh my god, yes! I did! I did! I can't believe it! When did it start?"

"Just now. I think it's playing footsies with me. Or handsies. I can't tell."

Monica shifted to her side again and hooked her leg over his waist. He pressed his face against her stomach just over the bump and they arranged their hands so that all of it was covered. For a long while nothing happened, and he felt himself nodding off again, then Monica breath hitched and she whimpered.

"There ... oh my god …" Her hands on the bump started to shake slightly, hardly noticeable and when he raised his head a little, searching for her lips, he caught a tear with them instead.

"Hey … are you -?"

"No. Yes. It's just - I'm so happy …"

"I know. Me too."

"You're crying too?!"

"Well, it did sock me a good one on the nose …"

Monica laughed and drew up her nose.

"Oh wow. Does that mean I'm carrying the million dollar baby?"

"Oh absolutely. The ultimate baby champion of all time, boxing its way to the top -"

"I think though it's getting sleepy now."

"Oh, finally. I thought it would keep this up all night."

Monica drew his head up and kissed him, then she turned around slowly to spoon up against him. When he started to stroke the bump gently, she sighed and put her hand on his.

"Chandler?"

"Mmmh?"

"If it kicks again, will you wake me up?"

"Of course. You really think I could handle it alone?"


	13. Viva Las Vegas

**Day 142 (Week 21/23)**

"Oh my. I. just. can't. get. over. it. It's … it's just too too cute!"

Helena Bing put a hand on his heaving chest, then sniffed and groped for a handkerchief in the pocket of his dressing gown, smiling at Chandler and Bruno (whom Chandler still kept calling Mr. Garibaldi in his mind, even though he had long ago realized that it was just a nickname) when they simultaneously offered him tissues – Chandler from a half used pack and Bruno from a box of scented Kleenex tissues.

"Oh thank you, dears. Aw, I could look at it all day!"

"I know!" Chandler and Monica said in perfect unison, which made all of them laugh, and even more when Monica couldn't stop and had to use a Kleenex too to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"You should have seen our doc. She said of all the sonograms she made this could easily be the cutest. It got a place of honor on her photo wall. AND so far it's the only sonogram picture there, the others are from babies she already delivered." Monica added smugly.

Chandler smiled as his dad picked up the picture again to stare at it raptly. Since his wedding he had seen his father a few times only, once when they stopped over on their way to San Diego and a couple of times when Helena visited them in Westchester. Like his mother his dad hadn't changed all that much, or maybe he just used even more make-up these days than he did to back then. Whenever he took off his wig, which was very rare, you could see that his real hair had turned silver-white. Bruno too hadn't changed a lot, except for a few more grey hairs in his beard.

When his dad had invited him, Monica and the twins to spend the Independence Day weekend in Las Vegas at his and his partner's place, he had the picture from the latest sonogram enlarged and framed as a surprise gift instead of emailing it to him straight away. Of course the photo had by then been in huge demand already among their families and friends, even his colleagues at work too, and now practically everyone had a copy of it – be it digital as wallpaper, screen saver or phone picture, or printed as wallet picture or poster, or framed so it could be put up on walls or stand on desks. Erica had even had the idea to put it on a t-shirt and he had wanted to kick himself that he hadn't hit on that idea himself. So now they all had t-shirts with the sonogram picture on it and he felt as if he would never want to sleep in anything else. He was also seriously considering to get mugs made with the photo on it.

Of the 3D sonogram picture that showed the little tough cookie facing them, right arm and leg wrapped around its hips and the other leg raised up, seeming to smile dreamily with closed eyes while it contentedly sucked on its big toe.

When the sonogram had first appeared on the monitor both he and Monica had been struck dumb with wonder, staring at their baby open-mouthed and melting into puddles of adoration. Even Dr. Lotz hadn't quite known what to say. It had taken them quite a while to recover and even longer until they could tear themselves loose. And when it occurred to them that they could have ascertained the gender, it was too late. But then Chandler – and Monica too – hadn't been all that keen to find out in the first place. Dr. Lotz wouldn't quite come out and tell them that she knew, but he had an idea that she wasn't quite sure either. It was certainly impossible to tell from the picture or even the whole video since the little tough cookie had hardly changed position during the half hour of the examination and especially kept its right arm and leg firmly in place the whole time. It seemed to Chandler that everybody had tried since then to make out details, using every trick possible, especially Ross and the twins, but without notable success. Which was just fine with him. The only thing he needed to know was that the little tough cookie was in good health and thriving. Which it obviously was.

Now it was mid-morning after the Fourth and they were sitting in the patio of the villa his dad and Bruno owned together, enjoying the shade and a rather casual brunch. They had arrived in Las Vegas in the afternoon of the day before and watched the fireworks from the Strip right in front of Caesar's Palace until very late, awed by the endless explosions of lights and colors, the blinding glitter and the milling crowds. Now he and Monica were bringing his dad up to date on everything, while the twins were goofing around in the swimming pool with the neighbor's kids.

"And this was taken when?" his father asked. "I mean how long –"

"20 weeks" Monica said promptly and Chandler added "gestational age" at which his father frowned, confused. "18 weeks after conception. The doctors always count from the first day of the last period."

"I'm at 23 weeks now actually."

"Ah yes, those two weeks, I never got that straight. When Nora was pregnant with you I kept asking the doctor for your due date and then counted backwards and always forgot to deduct the two weeks. The date I got didn't make sense at first." He grinned at Chandler. "Actually it's today – your conception day. Did you know that?"

Chandler smiled back apologetically, hating to take the surprise from him. "Yes. Actually Mom told me. On my last birthday."

"Oh." His father looked disappointed. "Well, it's true. Only I figured it out much later. And when you were late, the doctor thought we must have been mistaken, but it couldn't have happened on any other day."

"Why? I mean – well, why exactly are you so sure?"

"She didn't tell you that?" his father smirked and leaned back. "I had a show in Montreal at that time. It was too far from home to commute every night. But I did go home on the Fourth, right after the show, because I just had to celebrate it, even though no one else did there, and once I was home we had our own fireworks." He gazed dreamily in the distance. "It was – really memorable."

"I'm glad to hear that." Chandler said dryly, but actually he felt a little touched. His father turned his gaze back to him and smiled a little awkwardly.

"Well, happy conception day, son. Oh, I meant to ask you, do you know when your bundle of joy was made?"

"Well, actually … " He looked at Monica and shared a smile. "Yeah, we do. It was on Valentine's Day. That is, the night before, but after midnight."

"Really!" His father looked genuinely delighted. "Well, how 'bout that. A real love bundle. Oh god, I'm getting all misty again … oh thanks dear. Well, I don't know what to say … this is soo … oh my." He leaned back again, fanning himself and smiled gratefully at his partner when he handed him his ice tea. Bruno then took up the picture to examine it for himself.

"So when is your due date?" he asked shyly.

"November 6th." Monica said promptly which made Helena Bing sit up again.

"But that's almost my birthday! So if it's a few days late …"

"Oh, I really hope not" Monica said fervently. "I mean, no offense, but I really really hope it will be punctual. Or a little early even. Though our doc said it was just a little on the small side, and she wanted to push the due date back a week to be safe."

"Then let's hope that it won't be as late as Chandler" Helena said wryly. "Three and a half weeks. I know, it's unbelievable, they wouldn't allow that today, but somehow it worked. But you really had our nerves in shreds in those weeks. Two weeks after the due date the doctor wanted to induce labor and then even do a Caesarian, but Nora wouldn't hear of it. And you still seemed fine, so we decided to give you a few more days. When Nora finally went into labor, we thought at first she was hallucinating."

Monica almost looked scared at that, her hands automatically going to her bump. Chandler saw Bruno looking at it with something like longing in his eyes. His dad noticed it too.

"Is it kicking yet?" he asked, adding "Gianna - Bruno's niece – has four, and they all kicked like devils from the fifth month onward or so."

Monica smiled and for a moment her gaze seemed to turn inward as if she was listening to something inside her head – or better, in her belly.

"Actually I think it's asleep right now" she said at length, almost apologetically. "But if you'd like -?"

"Oooh, really may I?" They both reached out for her belly even before Monica could utter her 'yes, of course', Helena beating his partner at it by a hair's breadth, and then they reverently let their fingertips rest on the bump while gazing fondly at it. At length Bruno narrowed his eyes a little.

"I think I felt … well, but I'm not sure. I think you're right, it's sleeping. Um, it? You really don't know yet?"

"Well, can you tell from that?" Chandler indicated the picture. "So far no one could."

His dad's partner looked at the picture again carefully, narrowing his eyes and squinting, then he sighed and shook his head.

"No. For a moment I thought it was a boy, but that's definitely a finger, so – no, I can't tell either."

"That's okay. We don't want to know anyway. It's our baby. That's what counts."

His father smiled wistfully at that. "Well, we never had a chance to find out with you before you were born. There were no sonograms yet."

"Chandler thinks it's a girl."

"Really?"

"Well … maybe, but I'm not all that sure anymore. It really could be anything."

"I didn't know what to think about you. I wanted to make up my mind, to be sure, but I couldn't. So until you were born you just were the Tiny Something to me. That's what I called you, you know. 'The Tiny Something.'"

Chandler swallowed hard and then cleared his throat, desperately searching for a change of subject.

"Oh, something I meant to ask you. Mom gave me the stethoscope she – got from her doctor, for my birthday."

"You mean the one she stole?" His father laughed throatily. "Oh sweet lord, you should have seen the doctor's face. He couldn't believe she was even capable of doing that, just pinching it just like that, right under his nose, and still look so innocent and sweet. I had to buy him a new one and take him out for a drink on top of it until he believed me."

"Yes, that one. But she said, you got one for yourself?"

"Did I? Oh –" at this Bruno leaned over and whispered something in his ear. "Oh, right, that one! Yeah, I think we still got that. Unless your niece - ? No? Well, then it must be here somewhere. Why, do you want it?"

"Well, I brought mine, but I thought if you wanted to listen too ..?"

"Oh, that would be lovely! Of course! Have you heard it already?"

"Yye-es – a few times, but it's still very faint."

"Yes, it's harder at the beginning. Though it was always a lot of fun too." Chandler and Monica shared a smile again at that, as his father's gaze returned to the photo as if drawn by a magnet.

"Wow. What a cutie. Do you think it does that a lot in there?"

"Maybe we'll hear the sucking noises if we're lucky …"

.

**Day 144 (week 21/23)**

.

"Ummm, I could do this all night. It's soo comfortable!"

"I can see that. Aren't you getting cold?"

"No, this is just lovely. Aren't you getting cold in the water?"

"No, I'm fine."

Monica rested her head on the head pillow of the pool float and closed her eyes, trailing her feet in the water and letting herself drift. For a while Chandler contented himself with turning a few laps, then he came back to the float and turned on his back beside it, letting the water bear him up. It was their last evening – actually night since it was almost midnight – and after they had finally gotten the twins to sleep and both found that they couldn't sleep themselves yet, the temptation of the swimming pool in the warm garden under the starlit sky had been too much. His dad and Bruno were at work in the city and wouldn't return until the small hours, so they had the place to themselves.

"Are you sure you don't want to swim? Dr. Lotz said swimming's good for you."

"Nice try." Monica stretched out luxuriously. "Oooh, I wish we had that at home. Can't we?"

"Sure, if they come with the right weather included …"

"Oh, don't be so negative."

"Yeah, you're right. I'd like to have one like this too. There's so much you can do!"

Monica sighed again. "Well, I guess we'll just have to visit your father more often."

"Or make the best of it while we can." Chandler turned around and took hold of the tail end of the float, then started to tickle Monica's foot. When she squeaked and drew it away, he caught it again in his hand and raised it up.

"Ugh – what are you doing? Chandler - !"

"What? Just wanted to see for myself what's so special about it."

"Then you should suck your own toe, not mine!"

"But yours are so much cuter. I'm sure they're tastier too. Just hold still."

Monica sat up and frowned at him while he continued to gently suck at the tips of her toes, but did hold still. Somewhere in his mind a memory surfaced that he couldn't place at first, about someone lolling on the couch and going 'Oooooh, toes!', and then adding sheepishly '… for some people.' Who - ? Oh, right, it had been Rachel. Rachel watching Monica and him discuss the seven female erogenous zones and playfully commenting every now and then. Oh dear god, how long ago that was. He had been too distracted by Monica then to think about toes on top of everything else, but now after the little tough cookie had reminded him he was more than willing to give it a try. And Monica had nice toes. Nice feet too. And ankles …

"… um … Chandler …"

"Hmmm?"

"Actually it's … quite nice … um, could you do the other too ..?"

"Sure."

"Oooohh … what are you … ooooh, don't stop!"

"Mmmh …

"Ooooh … hey, wait a minute … – stop …!"

When he bore down on the tail end the float tilted a little, enough to send her sliding into his arms. While the float drifted away, Monica clung to him trying to steady herself and scuffed him, then relaxed again as he kissed her.

"Mmmmm …"

"Um. Mmm. Um, oh, Chandler! Oh god, are you really sure no one can see? What if the twins wake up?"

"Their room's facing the other way. Come on, no one can see us here."

"What about your father?"

"They won't return for hours. Besides, considering how often I walked in on him, it's high time he returned the favor." He supported her with one arm under her buttocks while she wrapped her legs around his hips, both mindful of her bump between them. When he gently slid his thumb under her bikini top to rub it over her nipple her breath hitched and she tightened her arms around him. They kissed wetly, squealing and laughing when he lost the ground under his feet for a moment and flailed about, then relocated them to where the water was shallower and finally steadying them against a wall with a convenient headrest. Monica shifted her hips, tightening her legs around him, and moaned softly when he loosened her bikini top and cupped her breasts. He knew that though they were still too sensitive for him to tease and massage as he used to do before her pregnancy, she still enjoyed it when he licked the nipples, as he now did, and her clavicles too, and her neck, and armpits … Only when she started to slowly rub herself on him he noticed that he had an erection and spared a hand to tug down his trunks and then her bikini bottom, hooking her legs over his elbows. Her bump was still small enough to not get in the way too much and he took care to just hold her gently against him so their navels touched each other lightly. He nudged and teased at her entrance until she guided him inside, and they both moaned into their kiss at the sensation. She felt incredibly hot and tight around him after the cool water and for a moment he held himself still, just enjoying their closeness, her wet trim body in his arms, the feel of her mouth on his. Until her breath hitched and she clenched her hands on his shoulders, urging him on.

"Um, is it okay? Not too tight?"

"Nooo … oh god … keep going, no it's okay …"

He went slow nonetheless, trying to go even deeper and lose himself in her. It had been so long since they had done it in the water – so long that he couldn't even remember at first when and where the last time had been. Probably not since their honeymoon he suspected. A pity really, especially now when the buoyancy of the water allowed them to hold each other much more tightly without any danger of squeezing or even crushing the little tough cookie. The thought of his baby immediately made him wonder what it was doing right now. Probably - hopefully - sleeping, and maybe even sucking its toe again. That thought made him chuckle and then laugh softly, almost getting him out of his rhythm.

"What?"

"Nothing … I just remembered how hard it was to get Jack to give up sucking his thumb – think the baby will give up toesucking after it's born?"

Monica was silent for a long moment, until he thought she disapproved, then she started to giggle helplessly too. When her leg slipped out of his grip it made her laugh even harder, until it almost seemed they had to break off and it took a real effort to get going again.

"Oh god, just keep quiet, or I'll lose it again …"

"Yes mam! … Ouch."

It seemed like an eternity to him until she finally climaxed, clinging to him and panting, and holding on while his own orgasm went through him. At last they released each other, albeit reluctantly, and he helped her out of the water and put her towel around her. As she rubbed herself dry, she suddenly stopped and held out her foot to him.

"There, the skin's all wrinkly now …"

He grinned and bent down to plant a soft kiss on each toe.

"Still quite tasty though."

.

.

.

.

_A/N: I was pretty much stumped with this chapter, until I googled sonograms and found the picture of a fetus sucking its toe. Not only was it almost unbearably cute, but also proved a great inspiration. __ Unfortunately Fanfiction won't let me post the link here, but you can easily find it by googling "3D Sonogram" and then clicking on "images". It should be right there among the first dozen pictures._


	14. Dream a litte Dream of Me

**Day 169 (week 25/27)**

**.**

As always when Chandler felt the little tough cookie's kicks under his hands or his face on Monica's belly he fervently wished he could touch it in return. He knew the baby could sense his movements and hear his voice too – very probably even recognize it by now – just as it could see light when the sun was shining brightly and Monica was only wearing a thin shirt or nothing at all over her belly. Or whenever the twins played with it by shining a bright flashlight at the bump and they could actually see how it turned towards the light source and tried to grope for it. Fortunately for Monica who kept complaining that it made her dizzy the twins always tired of this game rather soon. He himself preferred to communicate with his baby by touch anyway, as he had done from the first kick on, endlessly trying to catch its movements and answering them by returning the pressure gently with his fingertips, always wishing he could somehow take it a step farther and really touch it. Just once. Just a tiny little touch with the tip of one finger.

If wishes were horses, instead of riding he would wish he could be the human equivalent of a seahorse for a while and carry his baby himself in his own body, instead of constantly having to stand by and watch the bump on Monica's belly getting bigger and bigger; trying to discern his baby's position, its movements, how it was faring from the slight ripples and tiny bulges on the surface alone, forever from the outside, never getting to see or touch it. True, Monica couldn't do that either, but at least she could feel it inside her, and he was hard put not to feel too frustrated and envious whenever she got that dreamy, meditative and somehow distant expression on her face that told him she was silently communicating with the baby growing inside her, feeling as close and intimate with it as he could never hope to be able to. No matter how often she – and everybody else – told him how amazing his connection with his unborn child was, how much they seemed to be in sync already now, it all paled compared to what she had. And until the baby was born (which wouldn't happen for three more months) he had to contend himself with the few things that he could do. The singing. The listening. The thinking and hoping, reaching out with his mind. The hands on the bump thing. And the dreaming.

Every night, after Monica and he had gone to bed, and every morning that he woke before the alarm (which was most mornings nowadays) he would do all those things with his baby, long after Monica had gone to sleep – which she usually did rather quickly. So far her only real complaint was that she kept tiring easily and she counted herself lucky with it. They would get settled each night in their bed, spooning with her head on his arm, a pillow between her legs and another propped against her stomach, and until she fell asleep they would stroke and rub her belly together, trying to massage the baby or just get it to react to the touching. They took turns with the stethoscope too and on some nights when they got lucky they could hear the little tough cookie's heartbeat, mostly when it was facing inwards away from them and they could put the stethoscope close to its back. They both agreed though that listening to the heartbeat, as exciting as it should be for them, actually turned out to be very soporific and was apt to send them both to sleep within minutes.

Tonight was once again one of those nights when he had stayed awake long enough for Monica to turn around in her sleep facing him, so he could scoot down a little until his head was level with her belly and press his face against it, his eyes closed, concentrating all his senses and thoughts on the tiny little floating being inside. And singing softly under his breath, or just humming in order not to wake Monica up, while he tried to imagine once more what his baby was doing in there. Were its eyes closed right now or was it maybe trying to look at him too? Was it grasping at the cord or one of its feet again to suck at the toe, or maybe a thumb for a change? If only he could see it, just once, just for a second, penetrate the wall of skin and muscle of Monica's abdomen between them with his eyes as he looked at it from up close, almost in a trance. Imagine what it would be like to look at it, watch it as it floated in the dark warm waters of the womb, gently rocking, legs slightly drawn up and arms crossed over its small chest, lazily nibbling at the fingertips of one hand. And just as he realized that he was actually doing it, that he was really seeing it, hardly daring to breathe, it slowly opened its eyes, calmly returning his gaze while it continued to suck on its fingers, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that they should look at each other. After a long moment its eyes started to droop a little, and it blinked slowly. Then its tiny mouth opened as if it was trying to say something and it actually took him a moment to realize that it was yawning. When its eyes closed again and the little head started to sink to the side, he simply couldn't hold back anymore and reached out with his hand, slowly and carefully advancing the tip of his index finger towards it until it arrived at its tiny feet and gently touched one miniature instep.

For a split second he could actually feel it, the soft almost spongy skin, the warmth passing to him from it, how it curled around his fingertip, then the foot twitched slightly and his baby opened its eyes again, gazing at him with a vaguely puzzled expression. When he touched the foot once more, trying to tickle it, it moved it around a little and suddenly pressed against the side of his finger, pushing it away, as if in protest. When he persisted, it withdrew the foot altogether and then brought its other foot up to try and kick his finger away. And then his hand was suddenly caught between his baby's feet and he could actually feel it trying to draw it closer to its face, letting go of its fingers in its mouth so it could examine his intruding hand with its lips, still looking at him calmly with big dark eyes. Just as his fingertip hovered over its face the corners of its mouth turned slightly upward. It was smiling. Actually smiling at him...

And then he realized he was still singing under his breath, almost inaudibly, even to himself, and it took a huge effort for the words to make sense to him.

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you / Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.  
But in your dreams, whatever they be ... dream a little dream of me. *  
_

When he came to his senses again, his face still pressed against Monica's belly, he slowly realized that she had closed her hand around his fingers which had almost been digging into her belly in his efforts to touch his baby, and was trying to draw them away from her, protesting sleepily. For a moment he stiffened in shock, then the dream faded as he came fully awake and relaxed again, shuddering and breathing deeply.

"… ummm … wha- what're you doing?"

"Shsh. It's okay. Sorry, I fell asleep."

"Um. But you were singing …?!"

"Yeah. I know. Oh god. Great, now I'm even doing it in my sleep." He could feel her shaking slightly with laughter and then she sighed sleepily and slowly turned around again on her other side. As they settled once more against each other, he tried to remember the dream and commit every little detail to his memory before it faded for good.

And hoped that he would dream it again.

.

**Day 187 (Week 27/29)**

**.**

"Chandler, honey, is there any more ice-tea left?"

He checked the big thermos in the cooler behind his beach chair and shook his head regretfully. "Nope. Unless I can interest you in some lukewarm tea, hold the ice?"

"Ugh." Rachel wrinkled her nose and got up on one elbow, gazing at him soulfully. "Could you get some more for us?"

"If you can hold out for another five minutes, I'll get it."

"Oh no, Monica, you shouldn't. Let Chandler get it."

"Uh-uh. I'll have to pee anyway. Just five more minutes."

"Why don't you go now?"

Monica opened her eyes just long enough to glare at her sister-in-law and then lay back again in her lounger, sighing. "I said five minutes. If I go earlier, it'll only get worse next time."

Rachel sighed. "Ah yes, I remember what that was like. It got so bad in the end I wanted to get diapers for myself too."

"Or a potty …?"

"Chandler!"

"No, it's alright, actually when I was pregnant with Leo, it really suited me that Emma didn't need her potty so much anymore …"

Monica winced. "Sounds tempting, but if I used one I'd never be able to get back up. It's hard enough as it is. In two months I'll have to do it standing up."

Rachel frowned. "And how …?"

"Oh, I'll think of something. Or Chandler'll think of something." Monica sighed and sat up, balancing her belly carefully. "Alright let's do this."

Chandler got up and stood before her, bending forward so she could hold on to his shoulders while he hoisted her up. As soon as she had got on her feet, she kissed him lingeringly, adjusted her t-shirt and took the thermos Chandler handed her. Rachel watched her making her way slowly through the warm sand towards the path that led to the beach house, shaking her head.

"Only two months more? Wow, she still looks so … fit!"

"Two and a half actually. The due date's beginning of November. But you're right, it's amazing how she's holding up."

"When I entered the third trimester I thought I wouldn't make it through. Both times. My ankles were swollen all the time, I had backaches and restless legs, and heartburn, Braxton-Hicks … She really doesn't have any of that?"

Chandler shrugged. "Not much. But it's early days still. Once the baby stops goofing around and really starts kicking …"

"Oh god. The kicking. That got old really fast."

"Oh?"

"And it was worse with Leo. Sometimes I really thought he wanted to kick his way out. Maybe he thought my belly was a trampoline."

"We could get there soon. Before we left for our vacation they told us at the childbirth class to count the kicks each day. Monica's hoping to get to 200 per day soon."

"Aw. Don't tell me, she wants to be the one with the baby who kicks the most."

"I told her it would have to give up toesucking first, but she doesn't think that will hold it back."

Rachel burst out laughing. "Oh god, you guys are really too much. I'm so happy for you though, that everything is so – dreamy for you."

"Funny that you should say that …"

"What?"

"Dreamy. Did you ever dream of your baby? I mean, dream, as in while you're asleep?"

"Oh sure! Um … yeah, I did. I can't remember much though – wait. Umm … I once dreamt I went shopping and Emma suddenly told me she wanted a pink onesie. And I found a really cute one and got it for her, and then I looked at it and asked myself how she would fit the cord in it."

"Oh, that could be the new thing. Onesies for unborn babies."

"And once I dreamt that Joey took her out of my belly and put Hugsy in instead."

"What? You're making this up!"

"No, I totally dreamt that!"

"But Joey would never put Hugsy in a girl's belly. Alicia Mae Emory maybe, but never Hugsy."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. What would a dream like that mean anyway?"

"Beats me. Maybe you thought Joey was jealous and wanted a real baby."

"Maybe. He was really good with me when I was pregnant. And with Emma too."

"He does have seven sisters. And tons of nephews and nieces. Even grandnephews and –nieces. He must be the world's expert in babies by now."

"Don't you think it's funny that he hasn't got kids of his own?"

"No, I think it would be funny if he had any."

"What? That doesn't make sense."

"He's still having too much fun alone to share it with a family. Not yet anyway. Maybe later, when his ratings go down – say, when he's in his seventies."

"Huh. I still think he'd make an adorable father."

"Father? Maybe. Husband? Not so much."

"But that's not true! He would be a great husband."

"I'd feel sorry for his wife actually, with all those millions of fans hating her guts …"

"Oh god. Yeah, she'd have to be really strong. But I still think Joey would be a great husband. I mean, look at you, how far you've come with Monica and the twins. And now it's like you're starting all over again with the baby coming. Are you really okay with it? I mean, the whole baby thing all over again just when the twins were getting older?"

"What baby thing? Diapers? Getting up at night? Messy feeding? Yeah, I was really starting to miss all that. And you'll miss it too once Emma really hits puberty …"

Rachel winced. "Yeah, you could be right there."

"Also, we had to deal with all that with two babies at once. I'm more worried that Monica will hog all the baby time herself and not leave me anything to do."

"Aw. Well, she really wanted a baby for so long. She's so good with babies. Remember how she was the only one who could get Emma to stop screaming? And it was so sad that she always wanted babies, but never got pregnant. Until now."

"Actually I don't think she wanted to get pregnant back then that much."

"What?! Of course she did! She always wanted a baby!"

"Sure, she wanted to have a baby, but only so she could have her own baby shower for once."

Rachel's eyes widened in sudden shock. "Her bab– oh my god! A baby shower! Um …"

"A baby shower? Why, that's so sweet of you! And I thought you would totally forget about it!"

Rachel was taken aback for a moment, but to her credit recovered very fast, jumping up from the lounger to embrace Monica who had come up unnoticed behind her.

"Oh no! I just wanted it to be a surprise for you! Of course you'll get your baby shower! When would be a good time? Next weekend? Or Labor Day?"

Monica smiled sweetly at Chandler over Rachel's shoulder, giving him an approving thumb-up while she patted her friend on the back.

"Next weekend would be fine, if you want to do it here. We'll leave for home in the week after that. And we can't have it on Labor Day, that's the twins' Conception Day."

"What?"

"When we were in Vegas, Chandler's father told him he was conceived on July fifth, and then the twins wanted to know when they had been conceived too."

"But you don't know that –"

"Actually we do. Erica told us that it happened on Labor Day, the last weekend before she had to go back to school."

"Yeah, once we had established that the father wasn't Shovelly Joe ..."

"Who?"

"Forget it." Monica shot him withering glance. "In 2003 Labor Day was on the first of September, just like this year. So it's a double holiday for them."

"Oh wow. That's – so sweet! Oh. I wish I knew when I was conceived too!"

"No problem. There's this website where you can calculate your due date and you can use that to count backwards too. Of course if you were late or early that throws it off a little."

"I'll have to ask my mom that. But what will you do on Labor Day? Have a party?"

"We don't know yet, maybe. It's for the twins to decide."

"Aw. Wow. Oh, maybe I could do that with Emma too. I still remember when she was made."

"We all do, Rachel. We even saw it, remember? By the way, do you guys still have that tape?"

Rachel winced. "Um – no, I think Ross put it away. We couldn't erase it, but I really hope that Emma never finds it. So, well, maybe celebrating her conception day wouldn't be such a good idea."

"It would make Leo jealous too."

"That too. Although – I think I know when we made him …"

Monica narrowed her eyes at her. "You still think it was that time when you wanted to renew your vows in Las Vegas?"

"Yeah, that one! How do you know that?" Monica snorted.

"I calculated all our conception dates. And sorry, Rachel, but no, it must have happened earlier."

"Huh. Really. How 'bout that. Okay, if you say so. But please don't tell Ross, okay? He's still mad that we couldn't go through with it, just because that damn Hollywood millionaire had booked the Little White Chapel for himself all week."

"Well, you could have done it at another chapel!"

"Naw. It wouldn't have been the same. But we probably would've screwed it up again, like the first time. It's better that way."

"Until the next time you want to try?"

Rachel grinned. "Yeah. But we won't do that in Las Vegas. Actually I was thinking of Hawaii … Well, so you're leaving already next week?"

"Already? We've been here for three weeks! I'm glad my parents let us have the house for so long. And Ross too, I thought he wanted to spend some time here too."

"No, he's still too busy with that summer course. But thank you for taking me in, I could really use that beach time before the preparations for Fashion Week start."

"You're welcome. Actually you're as much entitled to the house as we are."

"Yeah, but you needed it more this year. And, about that baby shower – is there something special you need?"

"Funny that you should ask that …" Monica got out a notebook and handed it to her. "Here're some things that I jotted down when I thought of them. You know, just things that I thought would be useful, in case you need some inspiration. Not that I would think you needed that. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Rachel thumbed the closely written pages, her expression rapidly going from happiness to dismay. "But that's … Oh yeah, I'm sure it'll be very useful! Oh totally!"

"Actually we still have almost everything, but the twins wore out their things pretty much."

"Of course, and it's so much nicer to get something new. But what's in there that you don't have already?"

"The very first item in the book actually."

"Ah. Let's see – what's that? 'Breast- something?"

"Oh yeah, we totally need those artificial breasts so I can feed the baby too. Could you get them for me?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "That's a breast pump!"

_.  
_

_._

_* "Dream a little Dream of Me", ca. 1931, cover version by The Mamas and The Papas, 1968_

_A/N: For all people who enjoy counting, the dates of the two days mentioned in this chapter are actually not as randomly picked as in most of the other chapters. But I'm sure you found that out already :-)_


	15. London Calling Part 1

_A/N: I know that a lot of people think that TOW Ross' Wedding took place in May, but since Phoebe had had the triplets implanted in January and clearly was in her last trimester already when they left for London that just doesn't make sense. In my timeline that special London anniversary of Monica's and Chandler's first night together happened on September 18th. Which also happens to be the same day I posted the first chapter of my very first fanfic here last year. Joincidence? ;-)_

_**.**_

**.**

**Day 200 (Week 29/31)**

"UNCLE JOEY! UNCLE JOEY!"

"Oouch, not so loud, guys, he's not deaf – yet. Or are you?"

"I think I am now though. And the baby too …"

"Alright! There you are! Hi you guys, happy Conception Day! Hey, nice shirts! Could you hold it a little closer – ah, "Going all the way back to - Labor Day 2003", wow, nice!"

"Thank you! Hey, Uncle Joey, how yoooouuu doo-in'?!"

"Not bad, but hey, that's still my line! Hi Chandler. Glad I got this to work. For a minute I thought I had to phone you after all. But this is much better! Hi Monica. Hi … um, little one … um, does she have a name yet?"

"Hi Joe. Good to see you, man! No, she doesn't … erm, does she?"

"No, it doesn't have a name yet. We don't even know if it's a girl."

"Well, I think it's a girl too. What about you guys, what do you think?"

"I don't know. It could be anything."

"Jack!"

"But I hope it's a boy."

"I hope it's a girl! And I got tons of names for it!"

"Really? Like what?" Joey put his head closer to the screen and Erica squealed.

"Ugh, not so close! I can see your nose hair!"

"What? Where? Hey, I want to see it too! Daa-aad …!"

"Stop it, Jack. Ugh, you too, Joe! Seriously …!"

"What? Ah, okay, I'll show you when I get to you – aw, crap!"

"JOO-EEY!"

"What? Are you coming here? When?" Joey groaned and buried his face in his hands while the twins nearly crawled into the laptop monitor and Chandler just stared at him bewildered. Monica winced and shook her head.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"What? Joey's visiting us? But you said you couldn't make it!"

"And I can't, not right now, I'm in the middle of something. But I'm free in two weeks!"

"So you come in two weeks, what's the big surprise?"

Joey and Monica looked at each other, and Monica rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Okay, okay, you can tell them, I don't care."

"Tell us what? Are you doing a movie here?"

"No! No, I wish! No, just for a visit. See my parents, my sisters, my friends … my godchildren of course -"

"And ..?"

"And look after Jack and Erica while you are away?"

Chandler's mouth dropped open. "While we are – what are you talking about? We're not going away – um, we are?"

Monica smirked, rocking back on her heels slightly for balance, her hands folded over her protruding stomach.

"Yes we are. That's actually the surprise."

"Why? What's in two weeks? … Oh."

"Yeah, baby!"

"What's going on? Moo-om!"

"Relax, Erica. It's just for four days. And Joey will stay here and take care of you, while we are away."

"YAY!"

"You are? Let me get this straight, you asked Joey to look after the twins, while we are in –"

"London, baby!"

"Yes. London. For our anniversary."

"But -"

"I've already got the tickets."

"But -"

"I've already talked to Steve. You're taking September 18. and 19. off. No problem."

"But -"

"And I talked to Dr. Lotz and she has no objections, provided I don't overdo it."

"But -"

"And Joey has agreed to stay here for that time and look after Jack and Erica."

"But -"

"I'll prepare all the food in advance so they won't have to order pizza the whole time. Which they'll do anyway, but they won't need to."

"But -"

"But what? Did I forget anything?"

Chandler hesitated until Monica aped his open-mouthed expression and the twins – and Joey – started to giggle.

"… um, but … have you asked the little t- the baby?"

"Um … not as such … no, I didn't. But I think it's okay with it."

Chandler just shook his head and then squatted before her to put his hands and then his head against her belly. There was an audible 'aw' from Joey while the twins rolled their eyes and Monica just sighed.

"Hey, how about it, huh? Would you like to go to London with us? See the place where your mom and dad hooked up - ouch – began their wonderful and amazing journey together …?"

He pretended to listen, while Monica sighed again and ruffled his hair. The twins immediately lost interest and crowded in front of the monitor again.

"Uncle Joey, when will you get here?"

"On the 17th., that's Wednesday in two weeks. Can't make it before, got a taping on the 15th."

"Can we go to a game? To the movies? To –"

"Sure! We'll have lots of fun! If you're good, I'll teach you how to play Fireball …"

"JOEY!"

"Just kidding!"

Chandler had closed his eyes. London. The place where it had started, which had somehow provided the background and the impetus Monica and he had needed to break through the barrier of friendship and habit between them, that had made them look at each other differently, each of them perceiving the other in a whole new light. Of course it wasn't really the city itself. It could have happened somewhere else just as well, Las Vegas, Barbados, Hawaii – even Atlantic City. Just not in New York, but – someplace else.

So, London? He asked again, this time silently in his mind. It won't be the same though. Even if we're in the same hotel, the rooms will look different after 16 years. The church where Ross and Emily got married won't be there anymore. That pub – The Wheatsheaf? – well, maybe. Westminster Abbey? Definitely and I promise not to be crabby this time …

The little tough cookie shifted slightly under his hands and he felt something that could have been a kick or maybe just a leg drawn up to get at the foot. Apparently his baby just couldn't care less right now.

"Will we be staying at the same hotel?" he asked without looking up.

"I even got the same room!" Monica replied smugly.

"Yours or mine?" She snorted.

"Yours of course! No. 605, in the Marriott on Grosvenor Square."

"Really? You hear that? Right, then I guess it's settled. We're going to London!"

"Can we come too?" Jack asked suddenly.

"No, sweetie, you have to go to school, you know that. We'll go there again when the baby's big enough."

"But I would like to see it too!"

"We'll take photos. And videos! And we'll skype every day."

Just then Joey cleared his throat. "Actually – you can see it right now if you want …"

"Huh?"

"I just mailed you a link. It's for the video I took when we were there, remember?"

"- the video? You mean – oh my god, the one where you met Fergie …?"

"Who's Fergie?"

"The Queen's daughter in law. The duchess of – what was it?"

"York. Really that video? But how did you – I thought you lost the tape!"

"No! I found it when I moved to L.A. and just recently one of my buddies here digitalized it with some other stuff. There's some scenes with Phoebe too – aw, just check it out, it's really great!"

"Okay, I will. But Joe, is it – erm, can the kids watch it too? All of it?"

"Sure!"

"Jooee? Didn't you also film yourself with that bridesmaid and the strawberries …?"

"Yeah, I did!" Joey grinned. "But I cut those scenes out, don't worry. Cross my heart!"

"Okay, just give me a minute …" He went to his office to start his own laptop and access the email with the link Joey had sent him, downloading it on a memory stick while Joey continued to chat with the twins and Monica on her laptop in the living room.

"Okay, here we go!" He inserted the stick into the TV set and accessed the file on the menu. The video seemed to be about 20 minutes long and was called, aptly enough, "London, Baby!" They all sat down on the big sofa, with Monica in the middle and Chandler beside her with his hand on her belly as always, and the twins holding the laptop with Joey still on the screen so that it faced the TV.

"All set? Okay!"

Whoever had digitalized and edited Joey's tape had also added the main title "London, Baby!" in big red letters and a chapter title each time the tape had been stopped. The first scene was headed "Flying to London" and it started on the plane with some wobbly takes of the clouds through the window, of the back of the seat before them and Chandler's knees as Joey twisted around trying to align the camera to get a shot of him and then of Monica and Ross in the middle row across the aisle.

'_Yeah, here we go! London, Baby!'_ The camera closed up on Chandler until his forehead filled the entire screen, and then tilted abruptly when it was pushed away. Then you could see Ross and Monica waving while he leaned back out of the frame, rolling his eyes and groaning audibly.

"Hey, there's Uncle Ross! And Mom! Hey, what are you doing?"

Monica on the tape had taken out her camera and was aiming it now at Joey and him. When the flash went off, the screen went nearly all white for a moment. The sound of the video wasn't great, but they could hear all of his and Joey's comments quite clearly. Especially the last.

'_What did you do that for?! Hey, Chandler, could you get a shot of me too …?' _

'_Alright … here we go, but don't say it – oh god.' _

'_LONDON, BABY!'_ And there was Joey, 16 years younger, his hair still jet black, and, with both thumbs up, grinning into the camera goofily. It gave Chandler a pang to see how young they all had been then. Seeing it on video brought that home to him much closer than all the photos they had ever could.

Now Joey looked at something over his shoulder and quickly grabbed the camera. There was a swift turn across the aisle just before it focused on a stewardess walking by them and then zooming in on her legs.

"JOEY!"

"Relax, it's just this shot! I cut out the rest."

Only then he remembered how Joey had scrambled across him and followed the stewardess, actually making a pass at her with the camera still running. And how dearly he had wished he had had another seat in another part of the plane. Or another plane altogether. Or maybe the space shuttle.

"Mom? Where's Aunt Rachel? Wasn't she in London too?"

"She didn't want to come at first. Then she changed her mind and got another plane, but by that time we had arrived already."

Right. When they had gone over the timeline later, it had turned out that Rachel had finally succeeded to get a ticket at about the same time Ross had barged into their hotel room in the morning. He often wondered what would have happened, if she hadn't decided to fly to London after all. Would the wedding have gone as planned? Would Ross still be married to Emily? If Rachel had been in New York when they got back, would he and Monica have been able to continue their affair? It didn't bear thinking really.

Now there were some more shots of the plane and the other passengers as Joey made his way back to his seat where Chandler was unavailingly trying to hide behind a magazine.

"And what about Aunt Phoebe?"

"She was too pregnant to fly. Don't you remember the photos?"

"She was so pregnant she could balance a glass of water on her belly!"

"There's a scene with her at the end of the video, you can see her then!"

"But Mom, aren't you too pregnant too?"

"No, sweetie, I'm still okay. Also Phoebe was carrying three babies. She wouldn't have fitted into a seat!"

"If she had come, the triplets could have been born in London. Or even on that plane!"

"But what if the baby is born when you're in London?"

"Don't worry, it's not going to happen. It's too early."

"Sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! Oh, look, there's London! Hey, there's Big Ben!"

"And Tower Bridge!"

"And … Your Uncle Joey again –"

"LONDON BABY!"

"What's that? Oh the hotel already."

"Yeah, there's me and your dad going sightseeing. I'm telling you, your dad sure was crabby that day!"

"Why were you crabby, dad?"

He sighed. "I don't know really. I think everyone was crabby." On the screen his younger self and Joey were just discussing their sightseeing plans. While he watched himself trying to deal with Joey's bumbling wildly determined cheerfulness and failing miserably, he wondered just what it was that had bothered him so much there. Had he somehow realized that being in a foreign country didn't change things, that he was still not going to be confident, self-assured, successful? Let alone romantically involved, in love or at least about to meet someone interesting? That bringing the condoms had been totally illusionary and only profited Joey?

"At least you two got to see the sights. I had to listen to Emily's rants all day and then get stabbed by that dressmaker. And then Ross yelled at me."

"Oooh, look, you're on a red bus! Oh, you made a selfie, cool!"

"And they weren't even invented yet!"

"But you cut off your heads!"

"No, that was your dad, he kept pushing the camera away."

"Yeah, and then your uncle fell asleep and when I tried to take the camera from him I fell out of the seat." The twins and Joey shrieked with laughter at this, nearly upsetting the laptop.

"And here it is, Westminster Abbey!"

"What's that? A church?"

"Yes, a really big one. It's pretty old too."

"There, that's the last time I tried to get your father on the video …!" There was a close-up of him on the screen and you could hear Joey's voice behind the camera.

'_Okay. What do you think of the Abbey, Chandler?'_

'_I__ think it's great. It's great. Y'know, they're thinking of changing the name of this place.'_

'_Really? To what?'_

'_To Put the Camera Away!'_

'_Man, you are Westminster Crabby!'_

And then he was walking away, breaking into a run with the camera chasing him, until a massive red-faced tourist suddenly loomed in front of it as Joey collided with him, and the video broke off. There was a subtitle before the next part again, reading "The Hat".

"There! That's my hat!"

Indeed it was. Joey had gotten someone, the souvenir vendor presumably, to film him with that big hat with the British flag on it set firmly on his head at a rakish angle.

"Awww! That's so cool! Do you still have that hat?"

"I'm not sure, I have to look for it. Anyway, that was when your dad and I parted ways. Right after he fell into that flower stand. That was so funny!"

Chandler sighed. "Yeah, I guess. It was definitely the highpoint of that day for me."

Monica beside him smiled and squeezed his hand.

"And here it is! Remember, when I showed you this?"

On the screen the Duchess of York smiled into the camera and then complimented Joey on his hat, telling him it looked 'kinda dashing'. And Chandler remembered. Remembered how he had returned to his hotel room, grumpy and depressed, and once he had arrived there, been quite at a loss about what to do. There simply was nothing to do. Here he was, in one of the world's most exciting cities, alone and fed up with everything. Even the old 'catapulting his shoes off' game, usually his last resort, was just as boring there as at home when he did it alone.

Alone. Until that time he had been alone. Except for Joey and his friends, and the occasional – very occasional – girlfriend, he had been alone. And lonely.

But not for much longer.

Now the next subtitle, reading "Rehearsal" appeared and the video resumed in the middle of the big dinner hall of the "interlude".

"Look, there's grandpa and grandma!"

"Why is grandpa so mad?"

"Emily's father tried to trick him into paying for everything."

"There's mom! Why are you so sad?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I was just – crabby."

"Your grandma just gave her a hard time."

"Aw, it wasn't so bad."

"I was sad too! I'd gotten homesick all of a sudden. There, you see? I'm trying to get Chandler to go home."

"Yeah, right in the middle of the rehearsal. And we still had to give our speeches!"

"Oh yeah, they're coming up next."

"Who was behind the camera anyway?"

"Oh, I just gave it to Emily's cousin. But she nearly used up the whole tape with shots of the food and some waiter she had a crush on and I had to cut it all out later. There, your speech's coming up!"

Oh god. That awful speech where no one had uttered so much as a single snort. It seemed funnier now though, since at least the twins giggled when his younger self on the screen was tapping the glass with the napkin still in it.

'_I'd like to toast, Ross and Emily. Of course, my big toast will be tomorrow at the wedding, so this is kind of my little toast or Melba toast, if you will.' _

"I still don't understand why nobody laughed!"

"I laughed."

"No, you didn't. There you are, and you're not laughing!"

"I guess I was too drunk already."

_'In fact I knew him when he was going out with his first girlfriend. And I thought things were going to work out for him - until the day he overinflated her. Ohh, dear god ...'_

"Mom, who's that lady who's always on the phone?"

"That's Emily's mom. And I think she's just in that moment talking to Aunt Phoebe."

'_And I'm sure we're all very excited that Ross and Emily are getting married at Montgomery Hall. I mean to think, my friend getting married in Monty Hall. Oh come on! Monty Hall! Let's make a Deal! Come on, you people! All right, forget it! Congratulations, Ross and Emily.'_

"Oh god, and to think how long I'd worked on that damn speech …"

"I really liked it, dad."

"Oh thank you, sweetie."

"But how did Uncle Ross inflate his girlfriend?"

"Um … you're right, it wasn't so great after all I guess."

"Now it's my turn! Right, there I am!"

'_Hey, best man number two, Joey Tribbiani ...'_

"Number two?!"

"Yeah, Ross couldn't decide who should be the best man, so he had both of us."

"But … number TWO?"

Chandler stared at his daughter who kept giggling, and his jaw dropped.

"Oh sh- – oops – I should have thought of that! Oh well."

'_Now I'm not good with the jokes like Chandler here ... but ahh, I just want to say congratulations to the happy couple. I first met Ross in this coffee house back home ...'_

Joey's expression in the video suddenly fell and his mouth started to droop.

'_Home ... New York City ...Where everybody knows my name. Well anyway, I love you guys. But not as much as I love America.'_ He sat back down looking beseechingly at Chandler next to him. _'Could we please … go home now?'_

"Aw, did you really want to go home?"

"It looks like you're crying!"

"Yeah, but wait for it – three, two, one – aaand …"

The girl next to Joey suddenly turned to him and put her hand on his arm.

"There she is! My lifesaver! My London angel! My bridesmaid!"

"Aw, she looks nice! What was her name?"

"Name? … um …"

"How come you don't remember?"

"Oh, give me some credit, it's 16 years ago!"

"I remember. It was Felicity."

"Right! Felicity! Oh, wouldn't that be a good name?"

"What?!"

"For the baby!"

"Um … No."

"Why not?!"

"Joey, NO!"

"Aw. Can't you at least ask her?"

"Oh alright." Chandler bent his head over Monica's belly. "Felicity? Fellis? Felly? Hm? How about it?" He pretended to listen for a moment and then shrugged. "She says she'll think about it."

"But what if it's a boy?"

"Then we'll have to call him Felix I guess ..."

"COOL!"

Monica sighed deeply. "Okay, we'll put it on the 'possible' list."

"YAY!"

"At the end of the possible list."

"Aw."

"Hey look, there's mom and dad again!"

"Who's that man?"

"Yup, there he is …"

"Yeah, he was that drunk guy who thought I was Ross's mother."

"WHAT?"

"He was really drunk. If he was here today he would probably think I was your mom's dad."

Joey actually guffawed at that while the twins looked at them uncertainly and Monica squeezed his hand.

"It's okay, it's okay. Actually I think we really owe him. He was the last straw that brought us together."

"Aw, you really think so?"

"Yes! I wish I knew who he was, then I could send him – I don't know, a medal or something. With best regards from Ross's mom and her dad."

"Hey, that's the wedding! Look at that church! Isn't it great?"

"It took us a whole day to get it to look like that!"

"Hey, there's me again, and I'm actually talking to Phoebe on the phone! She heard the whole thing!"

"And there's us again!" As he watched Monica and himself walking down the aisle, smiling awkwardly and studiously not looking at each other, he remembered how horribly embarrassed he had felt then. And knee-shakingly nervous. And terribly excited. And above all still so horny.

Monica turned her head slightly to smile at him and he knew she was thinking the same.

"Mom, do you still have that dress?"

"I think so, yes. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it looks really hot!"

"Jack!"

"He's right though …"

"Could you show it to me?"

"Well, maybe later sometime. When I fit into it again."

"Hey, look, the ceremony's starting!"

'_Friends. Family. We are gathered to celebrate here today the joyous union of Ross and Emily. May the happiness we share with them today be with them always. Now Emily, repeat after me. I, Emily ...'_

'_I, Emily ...'_

'_Take thee Ross ...'_

'_Take thee Ross ...'_

'_As my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, till death parts us."_

"But mom, I thought Uncle Ross married Aunt Rachel!"

"Not this time. That was much later."

_'_As my lawfu_lly wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death parts us."_

'_Now Ross, repeat after me. I Ross ...'_

'_I Ross ...'_

'_Take thee, Emily ...'_

'_Take thee, Rachel ... Emily. Emily!'_

Joey was laughing out loud. "Oh my god, I saw this so many times already, but it still kills me."

"Why did he say the wrong name?"

"I don't know sweetie. He was a bit confused. You know your uncle Ross."

"But what's happening? Why didn't they stop the wedding?"

"They had gone too far already. Emily wanted to go on. But she sure was mad."

"Yep, there they go … She looks alright, but I'm telling you, as soon as they were out of the door, she punched him."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. And later she took off. When we were at the reception, she went out of the bathroom window."

"In her wedding dress?"

"I guess, she must have."

"Aw what's that now?"

"The tape had run out. I didn't have another with me, so I couldn't film anything else. But I added something else – there it is!"

The last subtitle read "The Hat, part 2" and there was Phoebe standing in the kitchen of apartment #19 balancing Joey's souvenir hat on her huge belly and laughing. Then she put it on her head, but it was too big for her and slid down to her nose. While she tried to get rid of it the chick suddenly flew on the counter madly thrashing his wings and Phoebe quickly and very neatly put the hat on it. The hat wobbled a little when the chick pushed against it from the inside and then went still.

_'Hey, it likes the hat!'_

_'Naw, it just went to sleep. I tried that too already.'_

_'Really? Oh, right.'_

_'Oooh, try putting it on the duck!'_ The duck however didn't like that hat at all and tore away, quacking angrily. Phoebe laughed and then grimaced and patted her belly.

_'Hey, stop that! I said no kicking in there! Oh, alright.'_ And she grabbed the hat again and put it on her belly. '_Hey, it works! Joey, can I keep this?'_

_'What? NO! Give it back! Hey!' _But Phoebe was already waddling out of the door, and then the movie broke off.

"Wow, that was really good!"

"Yeah, wasn't it? I had totally forgotten about that, only found it again now. It made me so happy! I thought I had no video with the chick and the duck in it and then I found this!"

"Did you really have a chick and a duck in your apartment?"

"Sure! We had them for years! They were so cute!"

"And so messy."

"Aw, come on Mon."

"I still think it's crazy, keeping them in your apartment like that. They should have been outside."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't rescued them, they would have been killed."

"Can we have a chick and a duck too?"

"Oh sweetie …"

"They could live in the yard! And swim in the stream! Oh please, mom, can't we?"

"I don't know …"

"We'll think about it, okay?" Chandler looked meaningfully at Jack who had already opened his mouth and now shut it again. When he looked at Joey, his friend winked at him and he grinned back.

.

.

"_London calling, yes, I was there, too / An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!  
London calling at the top of the dial / After all this, won't you give me a smile?  
London calling …" *  
_

"Ugh, now you've woken it up!"

"Naw, it's just getting excited about going to London. And it should be!"

"Oh god, and still two weeks to go."

"Two weeks, baby! TWO WEEKS!"

"Shsh, Chandler!"

"Well, I'm excited too!"

"Oh god. I guess I had that coming, didn't I?"

"LONDON BABY!"

.

.

* "London Calling", The Clash, 1979


	16. London Calling Part 2

**Day 217 (week 31/33)**

"You still think it was a good idea to take the night flight?"

Chandler sat down on the bed beside Monica and bent over to kiss her.

"Yes, I do actually. This way we've got half a day more here." He slid his hand gently under her shirt over her belly and Monica sighed and stretched out luxuriously. "Remember the last time when it was so late already when we arrived?"

"Yeah, I was still unpacking at 2 a.m. because I couldn't sleep."

"I'm tired too, but it's still early. We've lots of time. And tonight we can turn in early."

"Mmmh. This feels so nice … Oh god, I feel so lazy. I know I should unpack, take a shower, but I don't want to get up."

"No wonder, you kept walking around all the time on the plane."

"Well, I had to, Dr. Lotz told me to move around every hour or so to avoid thrombosis, and also drink a lot."

"At least there was no one there who wanted to belly bump with you."

"Oh yeah, thank god for that. I really get enough of that at home. And the baby was so good … oh, oops … I guess that's over now. Ow!"

Chandler frowned down on Monica's belly and started to rub it lightly. "Hey, kiddo, none of that here, okay? We're in London now. A little more restraint please. There now. Let your mom have a few z's before you start your next workout." When the kicking diminished and then even ceased altogether, Monica's eyes widened.

"How do you do that? I just don't get it!" Chandler just smiled broadly while he kept caressing the place where he could feel the little tough cookie's head – or maybe its buttocks – under her skin gently with the edge of his thumb and then planting a soft kiss on it. Monica smiled and put a hand on his neck to draw him up for a kiss and then lay back, closing her eyes.

"I still can't believe we're here again. In London! It's been so long."

"I can't believe the room still looks so much the same."

"It's not the same. They changed the carpet … the drapes … the bedcovers are different too."

"You're right. These are much nicer, I didn't like that yellow anyway."

"Yellow? More like gold-orange."

"If you say so …" Chandler sat up to take off his shoes, then he got on the bed and stretched out beside Monica. When he pushed his arm under her pillow she sighed contentedly and snuggled up to him, fitting her belly into the niche formed by his waist and upper thighs while he rested his hand on her hip. After a while she giggled softly.

"Hmmm ..?"

"I just remembered Ross barging in that morning. I was so sure he had seen me."

"I know. I was freaked too. I actually heard him coming down the hall, but kinda hoped he would knock first or just shout through the keyhole."

"Yeah. That's Ross. He didn't even care that Joey wasn't there. But I sure couldn't get away with it now ... How about you, is the bed wide enough for you?"

"Don't worry about me. We can always push the beds together if you need more space."

"Mmmh. I think I'm okay. I'm not sure about the baby though."

"I can handle it."

"Mmmh. Oh, we have to call the kids, tell them we've arrived."

"I already texted them. Also it's 6.30 a.m. over there. They're just getting up. If we call them now, Joey'll never get them ready in time for school."

"Do you think he'll manage?"

"With that time schedule you made for him? And the emergency manual? And your notes? And the neighbors on standby? Oh yes, he will. And if not, he can always call you. Or his mother. Or both."

Monica chuckled and then sighed. "Aw, I just hate to be away from them."

"I know. Me too. But they'll be fine. It's just for four days. And just think about it, this is the last time we can do this for a long while. In a few months we won't be able to get away like this anymore. Then it's back to the old changing table for us. Changing, feeding, putting down, taking up, changing, feeding, changing …"

"At least this time we can take turns. And feeding will definitely be easier now, at least for the first six months."

Chandler grinned and slid his hand further up. "Ah yes. What it really means is that you'll be able to hog all the feeding which will leave me in sole care of the other end. At least with the twins I had a chance for a taste now and then. Though after a while it all tasted the same."

"Oh, but you're welcome for a taste. Really though? I thought you'd freak out about it. Remember how Ross couldn't do it with Carol's?"

"Yeah. And I was glad he made such a row about it, because I couldn't have done it either."

"Aw. Why?"

"It just felt wrong drinking … that … from someone you didn't know all that well. And back then I was a lot more squeamish."

"But now you'd do it?"

"With you? Try and stop me!"

Monica smiled and closed her eyes again. "Just as long as you leave enough for the baby …" After a minute or two her breath evened out as she nodded off. Chandler kept himself still so that he wouldn't wake her up again and just shifted his hand slightly towards the swell of her belly, smiling when he felt the minute almost dreamlike movement under his palm. Sixteen years. The day it happened had been a Friday, not a Thursday like today, but otherwise they now had come full circle again from the moment Monica had knocked on that very door. What if he'd already been asleep? What if Joey hadn't spent the night with his bridesmaid? What if Monica had decided she wasn't horny enough after all and not thrown herself at him? What if he had really been too freaked by it and chickened out? Though he rather thought that would have been really unlikely, since Monica was simply too hot to resist, always had been. Resisting her had never been an option really, however weird, confusing and downright scary the whole venture had appeared to him at first. Not when he had seen her pleading look, felt that desperate crazy need drawing him to her after they'd broken their first kiss and just stood there staring at each other. "I thought it might be fun …" she had said almost helplessly, with just the slightest trembling in her voice, tentatively offering him an out, a chance to decline gracefully, and yet making it so clear how much that would hurt her. He still had hesitated, but only because he was scared – this was so huge after all. But the point was, she needed it. Needed him. There had been so many times before when she had been in need of something – comfort and reassurance mostly, in the times when she was ragged and worn down, unable to take it anymore, like at Ben's birth or after Phoebe had moved out and he had always felt almost compelled to provide whatever it was she needed. Be it just getting cheered up and distracted whenever she started agonizing once more about being out of work or not having a boyfriend, and/or hugged tightly. Or just some other action that would stop the pain, like when she had been stung by that jellyfish and he'd had to force himself to pee on her after Joey had chickened out. Although that had been an excruciating and horribly embarrassing experience that gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards, it still had done the trick and helped with the pain which was much more important than his feelings. Standing by and letting her endure that pain would have been unthinkable. Just like refusing her because of his scruples, no matter how appropriate, would have been when it was so obvious and manifest how much she needed him to be there for her. No matter how much it freaked him out.

And then it had been so easy. There had been many occasions afterwards when he had endlessly wondered about how easily it could have gone differently. If one of them had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, if they hadn't been able to overcome the awkwardness by making a game of it, just pretending to have 'fun' until the physical desire kicked in and they could let their bodies take over … It still amazed him how quickly and naturally they had gone at it, once the barriers between them had fallen as fast as they had taken off their clothes. When they had looked at each other and he had seen her naked, it had seemed to him for a moment as if he had disengaged from himself and just watched as his body reacted to her so vehemently and enthusiastically. Oh sweet lord, how beautiful she had seemed to him then, how utterly hot. And she had looked at him in turn, and he had seen the desire in her eyes, the anticipation and impatience. No need for foreplay even, as soon as the embarrassing interlude with Joey was over they had gone for it right away, wildly and passionately, as if there was no tomorrow, and also as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He had been amazed at himself and his stamina since before that night he had never been able to get a woman to climax that soon while he himself had not even been breathing that hard. Usually it would go the other way round, but right then it had seemed to him that nothing could go wrong with Monica however which way he went at it – fast and passionately, or playfully drawn out and tantalizing, or with blind lust and pure enjoyment.

And then she had fallen asleep, snuggled up against him, and he had lain beside her unable to take his eyes from her, worn out and tired and still amazed and overwhelmed by it all. A small part of him had still been freaked and dumbfounded, but he had simply refused to let that spoil this wonderful turn of events for him, not then. Time enough for that in the morning, at dawn, when reality would set in once more … but not right then.

The little tough cookie shifted lazily under his hand, stretching a little it felt like, and then settling again. Chandler closed his eyes and tried to picture it, to draw as close to it as possible. Their baby, as much a product of that fateful night as everything else that had followed it. Their first breathless intoxicating week in New York. Their first five months together building up their relationship in secret and then strengthening and stabilizing it until their first anniversary of this day when they decided to live together. Their second year together as a couple, their third year as fiancés, their fourth year as husband and wife, their fifth year as parents in waiting, their sixth year as adoptive parents to be, and then the ten turbulent, exhausting and amazing years after that together with the twins as a vibrant, fun and above all happy family of four … all of this culminating now in the impending arrival of the fifth and final addition, the crowning of their happiness.

'We'll come back again one day' he promised his baby silently. 'When you're old enough … and you want to see it for yourself, the place that means so much to us … when the time is right again. We'll go back and then we'll have so much fun!'

The kick he felt then against his hand may very well have meant to convey his baby's approval – or just been a sleepy reflex. It didn't really matter which.

.

Monica being Monica had of course tried to plan for every minute of their time in London as much as possible, though most of the things on her schedule were more like options – things they could do if the weather and other circumstances - and above all her condition - allowed: visits of the Buckingham Palace, Mme. Tussauds, the Tower of London, St. Paul's, the British Museum, and also a boat ride on the Thames and a ride on the London Eye, if they really could go through with that. Some things on that plan though were definitely not optional, but absolute must-dos.

"Are you sure? It's not that much of a distance, but if you're still tired …"

"Yes, I'm sure. If I get tired we can take a taxi. Remember when we were all there together? I wanted to take a picture for Ben, but the photo turned out bad and afterwards there wasn't enough time to go back!"

"A picture of Big Ben for little Ben? Aw, too bad he's not so little anymore. But still not that big I guess."

"Yeah, and now I'd really want a picture of us with it and send it to the twins!"

So they set out for Westminster, walking along Park Lane towards the river in the early evening after their arrival, with Monica in high spirits, forever pointing out important buildings along the way, like Grosvenor House and the Dorchester. They were both glad for a chance to stretch their legs, but as he had feared, Monica's strength began to flag a little by the time they had reached Hyde Park Corner. But just as he began to wonder if they should take a bus or a taxi already now, he spotted the cycle rickshaw on the sidewalk near the Wellington Arch waiting for customers and gave it a wave. And then was a little taken aback to find that the driver of the rickshaw was actually a young woman who grinned at them cheerfully under the brim of her black bowler hat, waving his concerns away.

"No worries, hun! S'long as the two – well, three of you I guess - fit in there, I can manage too. So where do you want to go, love? Oh, Big Ben? Sure thing!"

And off they went, up the broad thoroughfare of Constitution Hill towards the impressive portals of Buckingham Palace where they admired the guards with their bearskin caps and the Victoria memorial and Monica even managed to take a selfie of them with a bit of the palace gate in the background. After they had negotiated the big intersection in front of the palace they headed for St James Park where the driver – whose name was Maggie as Monica had already ascertained after barely twenty meters on – recommended to go through the park along the lake instead of down Birdcage Walk, and which indeed turned out to be very scenic and enjoyable. Much sooner than they expected they arrived at Bridge Street where they got off and paid for the ride with a generous tip, taking a selfie with Maggie before she took off again with her pedicab. Then they walked over to the bridge looking for the best photo angle and at last took their picture with their arms around each other and Chandler's hand protectively on Monica's belly, the Westminster Palace façade and Big Ben behind them lit by the evening sun. And Chandler for once wore a decent expression on the picture instead of his usual photo grimace.

.

They did turn in rather early that night – not quite as early as on that night sixteen years ago, but it was well before 11 p.m. when he finished brushing his teeth in the bathroom. And nearly swallowed the toothpaste when Monica opened the door wearing only the top of his blue cowboy pajamas and a mischievous smile.

"Oh my god, you kept those? I thought they had gotten lost!"

"Of course I kept them. Actually I wanted you to wear them if we ever came back here, but right now I don't fit into my nighty anymore, so …" she held out the pajama pants to him "... I thought we could share them?!"

Chandler rinsed and dried, and then drew her to him to kiss her. She sighed happily and then turned around so he could hold her to him from behind and slide his hands across her belly that poked out quite a bit between the buttons. When she pressed against him and he found that she wasn't wearing anything else under the pajama jacket he groaned.

"Actually I'm not sure if I fit into those pants right now … do I really have to put them on?"

She put her head back against his shoulder and shivered when he kissed her neck. "Umm … just for now … ooh ... ah, just so I can take them off again … okay?"

He took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll try. But I can't promise anything!"

Still laughing she got on the bed and drew up her legs, supporting herself on one elbow and watching him as he took off his boxers and struggled into the pajama pants. Then he turned off all the lights except the lamp on the nightstand and joined her on the bed, leaning in for a kiss and sliding his hands up her thigh to her abdomen. She put her free hand on his neck and kissed him lingeringly.

"Happy anniversary, Chandler" she whispered.

"Happy anniversary, Monica" he replied, kissing her deeply in return. And remembering. Remembering that second kiss after he'd drawn and sat her down on the edge of the bed when she'd made it clear that she meant to go through with this. This totally unexpected, crazy, insanely weird scheme – that suddenly hadn't seemed so weird anymore after their second kiss. And the third.

They sank down on the bed and he started to kiss his way down from her neck to her breasts, unbuttoning the pajama jacket as he went further down, lingering on her almost flat navel. The little tough cookie didn't stir, or at least gave no sign that it was still awake for which he was grateful. Monica lay back and drew up her knees, moaning and whimpering and clenching her fingers on his shoulders and in his hair when he cupped her vulva with one hand, gently teasing her clit while he kissed her nipples. Just when the pajama pants really got too tight she reached out and started to tug them down almost frantically. He wriggled out of them and then turned on his back obediently when she pushed him over to straddle him, resting her belly on his while she slowly and lingeringly guided him inside and let him slide into her while he supported her with his hands on her hips and buttocks, letting her lead and set the pace. For a long while they went at it very slowly, gently and with much restraint moving to and fro until they had found their joint rhythm and kept to it, their hands entwined and their quickening breathing almost in sync, slowly picking up speed but without haste or urgency. She was still in the pajama top, with her hair falling forward over her shoulder as she rocked to and fro with her eyes closed and he couldn't take his eyes off her, completely captivated as she almost got to the edge of orgasming a couple of times and sinking back again before a new attempt until finally it overtook her and she cried out and clutched his hands, shuddering uncontrollably. He had meant to hold out a bit longer, but her climax brought on his own in turn and he writhed and strained against her urgently, trying his utmost not to throw her off. Then it was over and they lay side by side, still holding hands and kissing lazily while their breaths stilled and the sweat on their skin slowly dried again.

No, it still didn't feel weird. Never had. Never would.

.

.

.

.

A/N: _Don't worry, this isn't all. I just found that the chapter would get too long if I squeezed their whole London visit into it. And taking out bits would really be a shame even if I could bear to do so, so I decided to make a cut here and continue with a third part – soon I hope. No worries! _


	17. London Calling Part 3

**Day 219 (week 32/34)**

"Chandler! What are you doing? We're on the sixth floor!"

"I know! Just wanted to check something, see if I remember right … Ah yes. Monica, come here – remember this?"

Monica stared at the white double doors and her eyes widened.

"Oh my god, the honeymoon suite! You're right, it was on this floor! Oh god … What are you doing?! Chandler! You can't go in there …! Well, obviously you can … wait up!"

Chandler had tried the door handle and to his surprise it turned out that the suite wasn't locked as he had feared. An abandoned laundry cart stood at the far end of the corridor, maybe the room attendant had left to get supplies and forgotten to lock the suite again. Chandler held the door open for Monica and ushered her in, grinning broadly. Monica stopped in front of the bed and looked around her with the same awed expression on her face as sixteen years ago when they had hunted out Ross's honeymoon suite as a last resort for a place to have sex in.

"Aw, it still looks so much the same!"

"I hope they changed the sheets at least."

"Chandler! What are you doing?"

Chandler had sat down on the right side of the bed facing the door. "Yup, looks pretty much the same. Even that paint pattern in the corner that looks like a face – still there …"

"Where?" Monica joined him on the bed and squinted along his pointing finger. "Oh that! Yeah, I remember, I stared at that for hours when Ross wouldn't stop talking."

"So did I. And then he fell asleep on us and I had to stare some more just to stop me from throwing him off and jump on you regardless."

"Oh god, that was so horrible. I felt so sorry for him, but I really wanted to kill him then."

Chandler remembered vividly. How he hadn't even dared to look at Monica anymore, let alone touch her hand behind Ross's back, and just let his friend's endless laments wash through him as he kept staring at the carpet, the door, the wall, the ceiling, anything just to keep his growing frustration and despair in check. It could have been so great. If only Rachel hadn't installed herself in Monica's room before they'd arrived there, if only Joey hadn't wanted their room for himself and his bridesmaid, if only they had managed to find a storeroom or a closet on their way to the honeymoon suite or if only it had even occurred to them to try and get a room down at the reception … Now he wondered if it would have changed anything. Would it have been easier for them to continue their affair once they arrived in New York, even heightened their desire for each other – if that was even possible – if they had done it one more time before they left London? Or maybe one more round would have had the opposite effect of strengthening their decision to let this be an only-in-London-thing, actually making it easier for them to put it behind them and forget about it. It was hard to tell but he liked to think that that sheer amount of accumulated tension and frustration had actually made it easier for them to overcome the barrier between them that had been so much higher and harder to break down at home in their familiar surroundings under the noses of their friends. That the vague feeling that they hadn't got enough of each other yet, that there was more, much more that they could have, had been the determining factor, which – maybe – would not have been that strong if it had been possible for them to go for it somewhere undisturbed. That and of course the fact that once they were back in New York they did get to be alone. Alone and undisturbed and with a nice bed nearby into the bargain.

Suddenly he laughed and Monica looked at him quizzically. "I just thought – what if Ross hadn't come in and we had done it here, and Emily's parents would have walked in on us?"

"Ugh. Oh god, you're right, it's better that way." Monica patted the bed wistfully. "But now I wish I had booked this room for us. Then we could have sex in here now at least."

"Um … but we still could –"

"What? Now?"

"Yeah, you're right. But maybe for our last night?"

"It'll be booked already. And we don't have enough money for that – um, do we?"

Chandler smirked. "Well, actually …"

"What? How?"

"Um, well, I got a bonus recently …"

Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "For what?"

Now he squirmed. "I – well, I sold the Toesucker."

"You did not! Who to?"

"Steve of course. There's this binky campaign –"

"Steve wants to use the picture for binky advertising?"

"Actually yes, not just the picture but a bit of the video too. I wasn't sure at first but he was really keen. He's already got some other babies lined up who suck their toes sometimes, and he thought it would be a new thing to make an ad with babies who sucked their toes instead of their thumbs."

"But where would the binkies come in?"

"I don't know, I think they're supposed to taste better or something."

"Huh. Well … and how much did you get?"

"A lot. Also the royalties for the video and the picture. It adds up. Oh, and of course we get free binkies."

"Really? Oh great! But, wait a moment, does that mean we can't use the picture for ourselves anymore?"

"No, of course not, we can still use it for private purposes. I could never let it go. Who knows if we ever get another picture like that from our baby?"

"Since we've decided not to have another sonogram, probably not until it's born. But wow! I never realized! But do you really want to change our room?"

Chandler looked around the room and shrugged. "Well, do you?"

Monica smiled. "Do you remember what you told me about this room, that it needed sex?"

"That it needed – oh yeah, how if it didn't get sex all the other honeymoon suites would think it was a loser?"

"Yeah, that. That really had me convinced. And then we never got to have sex in here."

"But we had sex in my room. Just think how much of a boost that must have been for it. How much sex would a room like that – with twin beds - get compared with the honeymoon suite?"

"If you put it that way …"

Chandler got up from the bed and knelt down in front of Monica, wrapping his arms around her hips. "But we should definitely get the honeymoon suite next time we're here."

"Next time?"

"Yeah. And we should get married again too just before." Monica gaped at him speechlessly as he grinned sunnily at her. "You know, renew our vows – like Ross and Rachel keep trying to do. Maybe if we showed them how it's done, they'll have a better chance at succeeding?"

"But … oh, do you really – do you really want to?"

"Yes! Well, not right now, but … later. When the litte tou - Toesucker is old enough … why not?"

"Oh my god! What a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?!"

"Well, to be honest, I never thought of it either until just now."

"Aw, it's so sweet!" Monica grabbed his head and pulled him up to her to kiss him, slightly hindered by her big belly. He got up and sat beside her again so they could kiss properly, but just when they got good and going, the sound of someone clearing their throat startled them apart. The room attendant in the door smiled a little sheepishly at them.

"So sorry, folks, I'd love to give you a minute more, but the next party's due to arrive at eleven …"

Chandler got to his feet and bent down to help Monica up.

"No problem, we just wanted to test the room, see if it works."

The room attendant's smile broadened. "Well, does it?"

Monica grinned as they passed her going through the door, gesturing to her belly. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

They could still hear the room attendant laughing as the doors of the elevator closed behind them and they descended to the lobby where Monica got out her tourist guide.

"Anything in particular you wanted to do today?"

"Umm … actually I wanted to walk down Oxford Street again, but when you said just now that we've got some money, I had this idea …"

"What idea? Get something really expensive at Christie's?"

"No! Not there! Well, you'll see." She put the guide away again. "But first there's something in the park I would like to see."

"In Hyde Park? What is it?"

"Something I missed out the last time. It's in the park on the other side of the lake. Come on!"

.

They walked through Hyde Park at a leisurely pace, putting in a stop whenever Monica wanted to take a photo of some beautiful flower pot column or one of the cute grey squirrels that seemed to be everywhere, much like their cousins in Central Park, though he thought for himself that these were much cuter. At last they made it to the bridge across Long Water and took a couple of selfies on both sides. After the bridge Monica took a sharp right and they walked a little further along the water, until she stopped and pointed, grinning triumphantly.

"Oh, there he is! See? Oh, he's so beautiful!"

Chandler stared at the little statue of the little boy in the ragged tunic with the flute, and with what looked like rabbits and butterflies climbing up the twisted pedestal he was standing on.

"Oh, Peter Pan? Thank god, I thought you meant the Princess Diana Memorial."

"No! That didn't exist when we were here. But thanks for reminding me!" Monica took some photos and then they sat down on one of the benches near the statue where they could look at it at their leisure.

"He looks so … serene somehow. So happy."

"Yeah. I'd be happy too if I could stand in such a beautiful place all day long."

"I was wondering, can we put Peter on the list?"

"Only if it's a boy. But really? Peter? Like Pete?"

"Oh. You're right. But it's a nice name. And we did put Catherine on the list."

"What's wrong with Catherine?"

"Really? Catherine like Kathy?"

"Aw crap. Damn all those exes …"

"Yeah. And all of Ross' and Rachel's exes too. And Phoebe's. There really aren't that many names left!"

"But Phoebe called her kid David …"

"Yeah, but only because it happened to be the name of her grandfather."

"Her grandfather? I thought that was Albert Einstein."

Monika smirked. "Yup, so she said, until David was born, and then it turned out her grandpa was called David."

"Ah. Okay, so what if my grandmother was called Catherine?"

"Which one? The one called Evelyn or the other one called Agnes?"

Chandler sighed. "Okay, I get your point."

"It's too soon to think about names anyway. I'd hate it if we picked one and it turns out it didn't fit. Remember the Isabella-Delilah disaster when Emma was born?"

"Oh yeah. I liked Isabella though. Same with Ben - didn't they want to call him Dylan? You're right, we should wait."

"And if it's a girl and she actually looks like Catherine … what? Deneuve? Hepburn? Janeway? We'll call her that."

"And if it's a boy and he really looks like this, we'll call him Peter. Peter Pan Bing. Sounds really nice."

Monica cuffed him and then put her head on his shoulder again and gazed at the statue once more wistfully.

"I've always wanted to come here, but there was simply no time. I wish I could have gone sightseeing with you and Joey."

"No you don't. Did you not see the video? And there were far worse things that didn't get on it."

"Like what?"

"Like the time Joey climbed one of the lions on Trafalgar Square?"

"What? Oh my god! Did no one stop him?"

"No, I think they're pretty used to that there. But once he was up he couldn't get down by himself anymore and I and another tourist had to go up to get him."

"Oh my. And you didn't make a photo?"

"Oh I did, but Joey tore them up. When we get back home and it turns out he screwed up something, you can remind him of that."

"Aw. So far he seems to manage quite well. I can't wait to see him and the kids."

"Yeah. But we've still got another day, let's make the most of that."

"Oh, you're right, we should get going! I almost forgot! It should be around here, not that far from here … right, there it is!"

"There's what?" He looked over her shoulder to where she was pointing on the map in the guide. "Oh my god, Harrods? You want to shop there?"

"Of course! Where else?"

"Right. But I thought we already got everything – the hats for the kids, the Paddington bear for Joey …"

"Yes, but we didn't buy anything for the baby yet."

"We didn't? Then who's that I heart London Onesie for?"

"Well yeah, but maybe they've got something really nice at Harrods. Also I wanted to go there too the last time."

"Okay, okay. But no binkies!"

.

**Day 220 (week 32/34)**

.

"Oh, I can't believe we have to leave already!"

"Yeah, we should have made it a week. Though I don't think Joey would have survived that."

"I think it was pretty smart of him to take the twins to his parents over the weekend. That way he can pick us up at the airport with them."

"He'll need them too. Remember how we nearly lost him here when he wanted to get something to eat before takeoff?"

"Yeah, and then Ross waiting for Emily here, and Rachel turning up and flying to Greece in their place …"

"Just imagine if our plane hadn't been full and she would have returned with us."

"I know." He did too. The first week of their relationship, those amazing, breathless, mindnumbing, exhilarating first eight days of their affair in New York, when he had kept his watch on London time, and which had turned both of their lives around so completely, would probably not have happened like it did if Rachel had been there, or even returned earlier. It didn't bear thinking really.

"I don't remember really, is that the same waiting lounge we were in the last time?"

"I don't know. I don't remember much about last time we went home. Only that I wanted to do you one more time so badly."

"Yeah, remember when we wanted to sneak into that closet in the coffeeshop and that guy came out and locked it?"

"Yeah, wasn't that still around?

"No, I think it's a Minimarket now."

"But that bookshop's still there where it took Rachel twenty minutes just to pick up a magazine."

"Which I had to pay for since her credit card didn't work anymore."

"It took her three months to get even again. And oh god, my phone bill at the end of that month! If Ross hadn't paid most of it, I'd have gone broke from Phoebe's calls alone."

"They both used our phone too, but I don't remember him paying me back."

"Oh, speaking of which, we've got free WiFi here, should we call Joey?"

"What time is it? No, it's Sunday, they won't be up yet. Don't worry, he'll be there."

"He'd better. And I hope there won't be any nasty surprises when we get home."

"Like what? Flooded bathroom? Broken windows? All your clothes tried on? We had that already and survived it. As long as the house is still standing …"

Actually he had a pretty good idea of what would be waiting for them at home and was even looking forward to it. He still felt uncomfortable with dogs and Monica was as dead set against cats as ever, and the few times the twins had tried to keep hamsters or fish hadn't really worked out. But he still remembered the years when the chick and the duck had shared their apartment very fondly. And if they had been okay living in those confined quarters, life in a big yard with a stream and plenty of space should seem like heaven to them. Maybe they could also get a hen or two so they could have fresh eggs whenever they liked …

Later, when their plane had taken off and London was left behind beneath the smog under them, he drew Monica close and put his hand on the place where he could feel the little tough cookie stretching and squirming, getting ready for its afternoon gymnastics. Sixteen years ago on a Sunday like today, in a plane much like this one, going home, they had sat side by side, stiff and awkward and nearly desperate. And so horny. The awkwardness had long since gone, and they weren't desperate anymore either. Still horny though.

"Bye London …" Monica said wistfully. "It was so nice to see you again."

"Yeah. Best anniversary ever. Hands down."

She smiled. "It really was, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Thank you for making it possible. I never would have thought of it."

"I know. Me neither, in all that time, but now, with the baby – I just had to make it special. And I'm so glad it worked. And now our baby's on London time too!"

"So it is! But I hope it gets over the jetlag soon once we're back home."


	18. Home Stretch

**Day 239 (week 35/37)**

"Do you realize that in about three weeks from today we're going to have a baby?"

"Mmh. I thought we were already having a baby."

"Chandler! I meant that our baby will be here."

"But isn't it already here? What is this then, an alien lifeform?"

Monica rolled her eyes and lay back on her pillow resignedly, resting her bump against a cushion held in place by her slightly bent knees while Chandler supported her on her other side. After a moment she smiled again blissfully.

"Three weeks …! Three weeks!"

"Do you realize there's a good chance it may take longer? Dr. Lotz did –"

"-already push back the due date by one week. I know!"

"So it's four weeks really. At least."

"I don't care. Actually I'm fine with waiting a bit longer. But it's just so exciting. Sometime next month already we'll have a baby! A BABY!"

Chandler winced. "Do you realize you're getting louder each week?" He put his ear on her bump next to his hand. "It doesn't seem to mind though."

Monica closed her eyes, still smiling blissfully and cradling her belly in both hands. "Yeah. I know. I can't describe it, but I feel that it's soo – understanding all the time. So good with everything I do."

"No wonder. I'd feel the same in its place."

"Really? Why?"

"I think it must be really comfortable in there. Warm and cozy, and soft …"

"And getting tighter all the time …"

"And more snugly."

"Not for me. I feel like I'm getting pretty squished already."

"Um. Then four more weeks actually do sound like a long time. Think you can hold out this long?"

"Oh yes. No problem. In fact – it may seem like I can't wait any more, but really I'm … enjoying this. I thought it would be much worse, that I'd be uncomfortable all the time and in pain …"

"And you're not? You're tired all the time, you keep getting Braxton-Hicks contractions, and that heartburn …"

"Still, it could be a lot worse. Actually I feel really blessed. I even think I'll be a little sad when it's over."

"Really? Why?"

"Because this is so special. It'll never be like this again."

"Don't say that. Maybe you'll get pregnant again?"

"What? No. No, this is it. It's like a win in the lottery. We're so lucky to have this. Another one would be – too much. And I'm so happy with this already!"

"Yeah. Me too." He pushed himself a little closer and lowered his head to kiss her. "I'm okay with waiting for however long it takes. Also I think we should make the best of it while we wait …"

"Mmmmh. Right. Um – mmmmh? Oh my. Um, Chandler, I'd love to, but I don't think I can get up …"

"Shsh. It's okay. Stay put. I can manage." He gently pushed her pajama pants over her hips and thighs and slid his hand between her legs, cupping her vulva.

"But I told you, that Dr. Masters position creeps me out – ooohhwww … um, that is … ooohhh ... ooh yeah …"

"That's not … ah … Dr. Masters … I saw this somewhere else … Hold still … ah, oh god. Oh god …. Um …"

"Ahhh …. Yes, like that … oooh … can you get deeper – oh god, yes, yes! Mmmmh … where did you see that?"

"Some movie. Quite some time ago, I think we saw it here. Ah … um … I can't remember, only he had to go on a mission and … and … she was heavily pregnant - ooohmm - and they did it like this, and she said she wanted to do this until, until … oh god … labor ..."

"Until – oh wow. Wow. Owww … ooohh … I think … I think I could really get this …"

Groaning he wrapped himself halfway around her, kissing her and holding the kiss while he thrust into her as gently as he could and his position allowed while trying not to unsettle her belly too much. Her breathing sped up until she was almost panting, and then her hand clenched around his as she climaxed, shuddering and slightly stiffening towards the end. Then she relaxed again, sighing with deep content and breathing deeply. Just as he sensed his own orgasm approaching, her eyes suddenly flew open and she stared at him.

"Munich!"

"What?"

"Munich! It was Munich!"

"What? Oh god … ooooh …. Oh my g-"

"The movie!"

He collapsed beside her, panting and groaning, belatedly kicking off the covers and then stretching out on his back, feeling deliciously and utterly spent.

"The movie … oh, the movie! Yeah. Yeah, that could be it. I really don't remember much about it."

"Except that scene, huh?"

"Yeah. Funny how it suddenly came back to me. I remember that it looked a little, well, uncomfortable to me."

"It felt great to me though."

"Yeah. Me too. Ummm. So great … sooo … ummm …"

"Chandler …?"

"Hmmm …?"

"Are you falling asleep?"

"Mmmhh …" He turned lazily on his side to spoon against her, resting his head on her pillow.

"But you didn't sing yet!"

"Mmmh?" He frowned, opening his eyes. "Oh. Right. I didn't. Oh god … oh, oh well." He heaved himself up a little, angling for the covers at his feet to spread them over Monica and himself again, and then bent over her belly, gently stroking it with one hand while he crooned.

"Oh baby don't it feel like heaven right now  
Don't it feel like something from a dream?  
Yeah I've never known nothing quite like this …  
Don't it feel like tonight might never be again?

We know better than to try and pretend  
Baby no one coulda ever told me about this / I say yeah yeah  
The waiting is the hardest part  
Every day you see one more card  
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart  
The waiting is the hardest part …" *******

.

**Day 248 (week 36/38)**

For as long as Chandler could remember, Jack and Judy had always visited their children on their birthdays, faithfully turning up sometime in the afternoon, bearing gifts – usually some quite undrinkable wine, chocolates that mostly consisted of intricate packaging, and/or weirdly exotic houseplants that inevitably died after three weeks – and expecting to be fed coffee and cake and to be brought up to speed on the latest family news. Always, no matter which day of the week it was – except in the years the birthdays fell on a Saturday. He didn't know what it was that absolutely forbid them to leave their home on any Saturday of the year and had always thought it more prudent not to ask. Just like the fact that in those years they would always visit Monica on the following day, but invite Ross to come to them. Some things just couldn't be questioned.

And now they were sitting in the Geller's living room, slightly bored and fidgeting while an enormous birthday cake sat on the dining room table, complete with candles and balloons and partyblowers (which either Ross or his parents always seemed to deem indispensable, again for reasons he would never dare question), waiting for Ross who was late as usual, just as they had arrived too early, also as per usual. Everything was the same really, except that this year the twins had opted to stay at home to look after the chick and the duck which they were positive couldn't be left alone for even one minute while they were this small, and that Monica was due for another pitstop any minute now. So far she seemed to enjoy her parents' undivided attention too much to even consider getting up and he was actually starting to wonder if she was purposely holding it in until her brother arrived.

"I can't believe that Ross still isn't here! It's his birthday!"

"His birthday was yesterday. We were there, remember? Maybe he's still sleeping it off."

Monica rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Sleep off what? The dinosaur quiz? Hunt-the-pumpkin?"

"Who knows, maybe they turned it up a notch after we'd left."

"Ha, I would have liked to see that!"

"Did you leave early?" Judy asked. "Was it the baby?"

"Oh no. Actually Rachel wanted us to leave. She had reserved a room at the Plaza for them and there was some screw-up with the time and they wanted them to come earlier, but Ross wanted to finish the Jack-o-Lanterns first …"

"A room at the Plaza? What a nice idea! Oh Jack, do you remember, when we -?"

"Of course I do. We had to switch rooms five times until we got one where the shower didn't drip or the bed didn't creak. Or both!"

"It wasn't that bad …"

"No, actually it was worse. The bed we ended up in was so hard I nearly threw out my hip. And the room was so expensive it took me two months to get ahead again. But it was worth it." He winked at Chandler. "I think we made Monica there."

"Jack!"

"Well, it's true! Or it could be true."

"Oh it's true." Monica smirked. "I checked."

"What …?"

"Anyway, I rented the room so we would have a little time to ourselves. With your Nana looking after Ross and all I thought we'd at least get a good night's sleep there for once. Turned out we didn't."

"And you really switched rooms five times?" Chandler couldn't help grinning, even when Monica squeezed his fingers warningly.

"Could have been even six. Somehow there was something wrong in each of them. I think the bellhop wanted to kill us."

"I think it was very nice." Judy actually looked a little dreamy. "And what a lovely idea of Rachel for a birthday surprise …"

"You sure she didn't get it from you? I can't wait to hear how it turned out. That is, once Ross manages to check out. Knowing my brother I'd say he's still in that room."

"Oh, I'm sure he's on his way now. It can't be much longer. Surely you can wait a bit more?"

Monica looked puzzled. "Of course we can. It's still early. Why shouldn't we?"

Her mother smiled vaguely at her. "Oh nothing, it's just that you look so tired."

"But I'm not tired. I never felt better!"

"Yes, I'm sure you do, but the last part of a pregnancy is so hard always. You should take more care of yourself."

"But I do! And it isn't easy, but actually I thought it would be much worse. I'm fine!"

"Well you look fine to me. You're positively glowing!" Jack beamed at them broadly. "Chandler takes good care of you, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does, Dad."

"Well, I remember the last two weeks I was pregnant with Ross I was so tired I couldn't get out of bed in the morning. He was kicking so hard all the time too."

"I had to carry her around all the time. Didn't help my hip any."

"Jack!"

"Well, it's true! So, how're you holding up, son?" Jack winked broadly at Chandler who grinned back conspiratorially.

"Two weeks huh? That leaves me one more week to get up my strength …"

Judy frowned. "Three more weeks until you're due? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Dr. Lotz set the due date back a week."

"But why? Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not! She just thought it's a little on the small side. Nothing to worry about."

"Still, that's –"

"Better too small than too big, eh? Turned out Ross was too big for Judy."

"Jack! That's not true!"

"Of course he was! You should have seen her belly before he was born. It was gigantic! I thought she was going to burst!"

"Stop it, Jack!" Judy slapped him, her cheeks suddenly quite pink.

"But you were quite small compared to him. With you your mom looked about the same as you look now."

"I'm glad to hear that." Monica said dryly. "Was I late too?"

Judy's face turned blank. "I'm afraid … I don't remember, dear. I'm not sure."

"You arrived quite suddenly. Without warning too. If I hadn't insisted on getting your mother to the hospital, you would have been born in a beauty parlor."

"Jack!"

"Honestly, I swear! I kept telling you it was time and you insisted that you had to get your hair done first."

Monica laughed, started coughing and had to lean back, gasping for air, and waving away their concerns.

"It's okay – no, really, it's just when I laugh it makes the baby kick more. No need to worry! Um, Chandler, would you –"

Chandler had already put his hand on her belly, gently rubbing over the place where the kicks seemed to concentrate on, and Monica let out her breath with a sigh.

"Ah, that's better …" She grinned at her puzzled parents cheerfully. "It's so weird, but he can actually make it stop kicking. I really don't know how."

Jack put out a large hand and cautiously laid it on her bump. "Wow! So what's the big secret?"

Chandler put on his most innocent expression. "I really don't know. When I touch it, it goes to sleep. As simple as that."

"Wow, so you got the magic touch! That'll come in handy when you'll have to change the baby."

"Um, maybe it won't work then."

"Of course it will! Does it work on other people too?"

"Never tried it. Why?"

"You should try in on Judy. She just can't sleep."

"Jack! That's not true!"

"Is that true? Mom, I wasn't going to say anything, but you do look tired."

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm alright."

"She hasn't slept a wink for months!"

"That's nonsense. How would you know? You always fall asleep right away."

"You're always up before me now."

"Well, I just don't need so much sleep anymore."

"Nonsense. You used to sleep so deep I couldn't get you up in the mornings. I tried everything – bright light, loud noise, shaking, wet towel …"

"Jack!"

"I'm telling you! Once I had to carry her into the bathroom. And then she fell asleep again in the middle of breakfast."

"Jack, stop it!"

"The only time I remember when you couldn't sleep was when Ross was a baby. That boy was a terror!"

Judy smiled wanly. "He was a little … demanding."

"Even your mother couldn't handle him."

"Well, not at first, but later …"

"And how could she, when she only had girls? My mother never had a problem with him."

"Ha, that's what you know! But she never cared much for him anyway. She liked Monica better."

"I know! I was always her favorite!"

"Was that your grandmother who gave you her apartment?" Chandler asked.

"Yes. Nana Ellie. Oh I really owe her so much!"

"Ellie? As in Elisabeth?"

"No, Eleanor. Why?"

"I just thought you were called after her, I mean your second name."

"We had wanted to call her that, but she wouldn't have it. Not while she was still alive."

Monica suddenly sat up, her eyes widening, and then winced and sank back again.

"Oooh – no it's okay – but we could call the baby after her!"

"If it's a girl."

"You keep saying it's a girl!"

"I could still be wrong."

"You mean you still don't know?" Chandler had to hand it to Judy to make her surprise seem so genuine. Even though he was dead sure they'd explained it before.

"No. We want it to be a surprise. Dr. Lotz said she knows now, but she promised not to tell."

Jack looked over at the mantelpiece where the 'The Toesucker' resided in a place of honor. "It looks more like a boy to me." Suddenly he brightened up. "You could call it after my father!"

"What was his name then?"

"Raymond."

"Raymond? But I thought it was George!"

"No, that was Nana Ellie's first … husband." Chandler pretended not to hear the slight edge in Judy's voice. Jack who had already opened his mouth, now abruptly shut it again, with a slight sheepish expression.

"Both sound good" Chandler hurriedly said. "We'll put both on the list. And Eleanor would make a great middle name since that's my mother's name too."

"But your mother's name is Nora – oh, I get it. Funny, I never realized it was an abbreviation."

"I didn't know either. Actually I think she never liked Eleanor much."

"Still, it's perfect! Ah, I'm so glad we finally have a middle name."

"Names are really difficult. It took us ages to find a name for Ross. We had about twenty names ready, but just none of them would fit!"

"Oh, the poor boy. He kept screaming the whole time."

Jack winked at Chandler. "At the hospital they just called him 'the howler'. And 'poor boy'? Poor mother more likely. He never gave Judy a moment's peace."

"Oh, it wasn't as bad as all that."

Monica frowned at her mother. "I think dad's right, you really look tired. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course I am! I'm fine!"

"But you don't look – Chandler, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, just something I remembered – didn't we bring the stethoscope?"

"Yes, but - ooh, yes, of course! I got in my purse – right, here. Look, isn't that great? Chandler's mother gave it to him."

"Oh – that's nice. But why ..?"

"So we could listen to the baby's heartbeat. And I wanted to show it to you - yes, go on, try it! I think the back's over here now … Yes, there it is." She handed the earpieces to Jack who smiled at her indulgently while he put them in. Then his face went blank as he listened intently while Judy looked puzzled and Chandler and Monica shared a quick smile.

"Wow … it's like … I don't know!" Jack grinned goofily. "It's awesome! Judy, you've got to try this! It sounds like a little clock!"

Monica scooted a little to the side, making room for her mother on the sofa. "You'd better sit over here where you're comfortable. Just so you can relax – otherwise you can't hear it properly. Yes, like that. Now, close your eyes …"

Judy obediently put the ear pieces in and leaned her head back, closing her eyes, and Chandler held his breath while he kept his hand over the end piece holding it firmly in place where the little tough cookie was arching its back against Monica's navel. Thankfully it held still right then, almost as if it was listening too.

"Can you hear it?" Monica asked. "Isn't it just the greatest?"

As he watched he noticed how her mother's face slowly, almost imperceptibly, seemed to relax. And after a long moment she even smiled dreamily, keeping her eyes shut. "Yeee-ss …"

Monica let out her breath she had been holding in and grinned at Jack who was watching his wife open-mouthed as she slumped against the backrest. "Unbelievable, isn't it?"

"I'll say!" he breathed. "I can't believe it! She's asleep!" He bent forward to snip his fingers in front of her face. "Judy? Are you really asleep? Why, she's really out! Way to go!"

Monica smirked. "Glad to help."

"Hey, it was my idea!"

"Of course it was." And she patted his knee indulgently. Before he could comment, the doorbell rang insistently, making them all jump. Except Judy who didn't stir, only slumped a little more to the side until her head came to rest on Monica's shoulder. Chandler even thought he could hear her snoring faintly.

"Ugh, that's Ross – oh no, great, now I'm stuck. Dad?" But Jack remained on his seat, vaguely beaming at his sleeping wife. Chandler sighed.

"I'll get it …"

It was indeed Ross, all alone since Rachel and the kids were at some fashion thing as he hastened to explain, and all hopped up, exhilarated and eager for his birthday treat.

"Hi Dad. Hey, Mom, Rachel couldn't come and she – Mom? Mom?! What's going on?"

"Shsshh! She's asleep!"

"WHAT?"

"Don't wake her up! She hasn't slept like this for weeks!"

Ross' face fell. "But …"

"It's alright, son. We've been waiting for you. Your cake's ready … just let her sleep a bit."

"Okay, but why … and how did you do it anyway?"

"Um, dad, could you give me a hand? I can't get out from under her …"

Together they got Judy to lie on the sofa. As Jack put a pillow under her head, Monica heaved herself over to the easy chair her dad had vacated, and Chandler retrieved the stethoscope to show it to his brother-in-law.

"That's how. Put her down in under a minute. You should have seen it!"

"With that? You're kidding. You put her to sleep with just that?"

"It's true! She went out like a light!" Jack grinned at his son. "It nearly worked on me too."

"But that's impossible!"

"Why don't you try it yourself?"

"What?"

Monica positioned the endpiece on her belly and checked the earpieces briefly before handing them to her brother who stared at them dubiously.

"You're all crazy. How on earth should this work? Also I can't hear anything … oh wait a moment. There's something." He frowned, listening intently.

"Um, Ross, you'd better get yourself more comfortable. Can't have you keeling over suddenly …"

"As if …!" But he sat on down on the carpet beside the easy chair at Monica's knees and rested his back against it. "Satisfied? Okay … I'm listening … still not sleepy … still awake … it's really nice though! Kinda like a clock …"

"That's what I thought too!" Jack positively beamed. "If I had been more tired, it would have put me out too!"

"Maybe it's the rhythm, or the memory of the sounds you heard when you were in the womb."

"Chandler, you could be really on to something here! Just think about all the people who can't sleep, they would pay a fortune for this!"

Chandler sighed. "Yeah, I really wish there was a way to record it. I'm going to miss this."

"You could still use it on me."

"I'm afraid your heartbeat will have just the opposite effect on me. It'll keep me up all the time – um, yeah, we'll definitely have to try that sometime."

"Or right now – at least I have to get up. Ross, could you - - Ross? Ross?! I don't believe this! ROSS!"

.

.

.

*** Tom Petty, The Waiting, 1981


	19. Final Call part 1

**Day 266 (week 39/41)** Nov. 6th. (Original Due Date)

.

"I know it sounds strange, but I'm glad Dr. Lotz was right and the baby didn't come today."

"Me too."

"Really? I thought you couldn't wait!"

Chandler scooted a little lower on the bed until his head was level with the upper part of the bump and gently slid his hand under Monica's sleepshirt.

"Mmmh. Well, maybe, but this is so nice too. I'm really going to miss that."

"Miss what? The bump getting in the way, squeezing you out of the bed all the time? Me getting up every two hours?"

"One and a half more likely. Yeah, I know, it's hard, and while I really really wish we had bought that super king size bed when we moved here –"

"It was too big for this room!"

"I know and it cost the earth, but it looked really cool."

"Granted, but I also kept thinking how long it would take to make it up every morning."

"Hm. Yeah, maybe not that cool after all."

"Ha!" Monica shifted slightly to accommodate him and sighed contentedly when he pushed up the t-shirt to kiss her on the belly just over the navel.

"Is it asleep?"

"Um … no, I don't think so – oops, no definitely so not asleep. Whoa!"

Monica giggled and then laughed outright when his chin seemed to meet with yet another tiny bump raised by a determined kick and Chandler made a big show of wincing and hissing with pain.

"I told you it wouldn't go to sleep yet."

"Hey there! Yes, you in there! Getting restless, are we? Huh? Wanna do some more kicking? Or boxing? Or arm wrestling? Yeah, come on, let's arm wrestle, huh? Ready … steady … go! … Ooohh … aawwww …. Uummm … oh god … yes …! Ummm - - ow. Ow! Okay. Okay. You win. I can't – oh god, I'm finished. Whew!" He fell back, mock panting and grinning as Monica tried hard not to laugh and failed miserably.

"You shouldn't really waste your strength, you still have to sing, you know."

"I know. But not now. It's no use now. Later, when it's worn out. And I get my breath back."

.

**Day 269 (week 39/41)** Nov. 9th. (Helena's birthday)

.

"Hey dad! Hi! Happy birthday! How are you?"

"Chandler! Oh thank you, that's so sweet. I'm fine really. And you? Has the baby co-"

"Nothing doing yet. Sorry."

"Oh. Pity. That would have been so nice."

"I know, but – "

"Oh, well. Maybe it'll come on your mother's birthday."

"Could be, but that would be really stretching it."

"Well, considering how late you were, it really could be awhile yet. How's Monica holding up?"

"Oh, she's doing fine."

"Not worried, I hope?"

"No. The official due date is now November 13th. and she believes that it will be exactly on time. It's half Geller after all you know."

"And what do you think?"

"That's it's also half Bing. Which means there's still plenty of room for a screw-up."

.

**Day 273 (week 40/42)** Nov. 13th. (Official Due Date)

.

"Mom? Are you really really really sure the baby won't come today?"

"Yes, Jack. I'm really really really sure. The doctor said so too this afternoon."

"But what if it does? It was supposed to come today!"

"But it won't. Trust me. I know."

"But how can you know?"

"I just do. And your dad knows too. Doesn't he?"

"Yes. I do. The baby won't come today. You can go to soccer practice now."

"Sure? How do you know?"

"Yes, sure. And how? Why, I because I checked of course. I check every day."

"Um … when did you check last?"

"This morning. Want me to check again? Ah … alright." He squatted in front of Monica and put his ear against the bump, closing his eyes as if in concentration.

"Well, what does it say?"

"Shh! I can't hear if you're breathing in my ear … Mmmh … wait … aha … okay, yeah … Got it … Yeah, right, it won't come today."

"But what did it saa-ayyy? DAD!"

"Shh! Well, it said, it really would have liked to come today, but there are still so many things to do in there, so –"

"Like what?"

"Well – you know, things. Like packing. You know when you have to move, there's always a lo-hott of packing to do, you know. And it hates packing."

For a moment Jack actually looked as if he bought it. But of course Erica's audible snort plus Monica's frantic efforts to suppress her laughter immediately destroyed the illusion.

"AW DAD! You're messing with us again!"

"No, I'm not." Chandler got to his feet again, sighing. "Anyway, it really won't come today. Now come on, Mrs. Barnes' already waiting outside, you'll be late!"

Erica put her arm around Monica's waist, smirking at her brother.

"And if it comes while you're away, I get to see it first! Yay!"

"MO-OM!"

"Erica! It's okay, Jack, trust me, you won't miss it. And Erica, just so you know, if Jack's not here when the baby comes, we won't take you either!"

"AW, MOM!"

.

**Day 274 (week 40/42)** Nov. 14th.

.

The little tough cookie didn't come during Jack's soccer practice. It didn't come during Erica's guitar lessons either, much to Jack's dismay. Nor was there any sign of it when they took part in that night's Lamaze class. While she kept complaining that there wasn't anything new left for her to learn, she still attended every time almost religiously. Chandler too of course, even if he mainly went there because he couldn't bear to be away from Monica and the little tough cookie any longer than absolutely necessary. And there were other benefits.

"So how many people told you this time that sex would induce labor?"

Monica rolled her eyes while she adjusted the pillows around her and settled on the bed beside him. "Oh, I don't know. Three or four. Honestly, you'd think everybody would know by now that it's just a myth!"

"Well, it's sex. That never gets old."

"I guess. But I got two more for spicy food, three for herbal teas, and get this, Mrs. Palmer told me half an hour in a whirlpool was dead sure to work."

"Sure, we can try that, if you want our baby to be born in a spa."

"Ugh. No thanks. There was this woman who kept on about water births. I'm sure they're very nice, but honestly? I just don't see the attraction."

"Yeah, me neither. We never did it in a tub anyway, so why should the baby get born there?"

Monica snorted. "We could have done it in the tub, but you never wanted to."

"Too wet, too hard, too narrow, too slippery … um, wait, come to think of it, that actually does sound –"

"Chandler! Just when I thought there was actually something that didn't turn you on …"

"You're one to talk. Just admit it, when you do that breathing exercise –"

"Which one?"

"The one where I'm behind you trying to keep my balls from getting crushed."

"Oh, that one where I have to go like 'chooo-chooo-chooo'? Yeah, you're right, that is kinda hot."

"I wonder if they'll let us do it in that position in the hospital?"

"Not, if we do it exactly like this … mmmh … but, … umm … I think we should definitely get some more practice … oh yes … yes, like that …oww … um, are your balls still holding up?"

"That depends …"

"On what?"

"On if you wanted any more kids after this one?!"

.

**Day 271 (week 40/42)** Nov. 16th. (Nora's birthday)

.

"Hi Mom! Happy Birthday!"

"Chandler! Oh thank you, kiddo, that's so sweet! I'm so happy you called!"

"I'm glad I got through. I thought you'd be busy."

"Oh no, not today, I never work on my birthday. If I do, everybody keeps reminding me and I hate that. So how's Monica? Has the baby –"

"No, still no joy. But any day now. That's what our doctor says. Every time."

"Aw. Well, it would have been nice, if it had come today, but I must say I'm not surprised. You were late too, you know –"

"Yes, I know."

"Your father was so worried. Everyone was worried but me. I knew you would be fine."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Do you have a name ready?"

"Only about 130 on the complete list and 30 or so on the short list. And that's just the male names. I've lost count with the female names."

Nora laughed. "We couldn't find a name either, even when you were already born. Charles was getting nearly frantic, so I told him to just stop thinking and look for a sign. Somewhere outside preferably. So he went down the hall to the nurse's station and there he saw a nurse reading a book by Raymond Chandler. Raymond didn't work, but Chandler was – perfect."

"And I always thought it was short for chandelier. Or that I was called after Senator Happy Chandler."

"Well, that's how it went down, kiddo. You'll find the perfect name too, I'm sure of it."

"I know, and if not, I'll just look for a sign."

.

**Day 279 (week 40/42)** Nov. 19th.

.

When Chandler came home from work, he found Monica and the twins upstairs in their guestroom – or what used to be their guestroom or to be more exact, Joey's room. Now – or rather, since May already - it had become the designated baby room. There had never been any doubt about it anyway since it directly adjoined their bedroom and moreover was closest to the bathroom too. They had left the guest bed in it, ostensibly because they didn't know where else to put it, probably because Monica still wanted to be able to put up a guest in style, but really because she wanted to be able to sleep with the baby if she felt like it. Since that option appealed rather strongly to him too, he hadn't argued. The twins had taken some convincing, but in the end were quite happy that neither of them would have to share their room with the baby. And during his stay while they were in London, Joey had put up with all the baby stuff in 'his' room with hardly a murmur, even preferred it to sleeping in their room as they had offered. Erica claimed that it was because he loved the nightlight they had added. And the wallpaper with the teddy bears.

"DAD! DADDY!"

"Heyy! There you are! What're you doing? Trying to get the baby out without me?"

"Naw, it's still not here!"

"Why won't it come, dad?"

Chandler dragged the twins hanging on his neck over to where Monica was sitting on the bed to kiss first her and then the bump.

"Because it was waiting for me. Weren't you, baby? Yup, because otherwise it's not safe."

"So will it come now?"

"Um … let's see … hmm … Nope, sorry, not today. It's too late already, not enough time left. Tomorrow is another day."

"Awwww…."

"So, what've you been doing? Redecorating?"

Monica sighed, leaning against him as he sat on the bed beside her.

"No. I just keep thinking there's something still missing – in here. But I can't think of anything."

"Me neither, to be honest."

"I'd just hate it if it turned out we did forget something after the baby arrived."

"I know. Have you checked your list?"

"Which one?"

"Um, all of them? But I meant the list from the baby shower."

"Oh that one! Yes, but only once … I think."

"Then I guess we'll have to check it again. Where is it?"

"Um … I don't know –"

"I think you left it in the office. That's where I saw it last."

"Oh yeah, I wanted to update it on the computer." When she tried to get up Chandler held her down firmly, pointedly looking at the twins who nearly collided in the door as they raced out of the room.

"Now, let's see what I still remember from it … okay, crib – check, bassinet – check, mobile with bunnies – check, mobile with butterflies – check, mobile with fishes – check, mobile with … weird things … - check …"

"That's the one from Joey, he got it from his studio. I think it's palm trees … and … well, somethings."

"Alright, mobile with weird somethings – check, changing table – check, baby carriage – check, diaper dispenser – check, two and a half tons of diapers – check, assortment of bottles in all sizes and colors – check, binkies, the complete assortment – check, teething rings, ditto – check, enough baby bibs for quadruplets – check, unbelievable amount of onesies – check, ditto towels – check, ditto socks – check, ditto shoes – check, ditto –"

"Stop it! Alright, I think we do have enough clothes for the baby."

"Okay … baby bath – check, baby phone #1 – check, baby phone #2 – check, baby phone #3 – check, baby phone #4 – check …"

"Four? I thought there were just two."

"No, four. One we bought, one we got with the baby shower and two we still had … what? Oh, don't tell me, you ordered another one, didn't you?"

Monica winced a little. "I just thought two weren't enough."

"No problem. This way we can cover the whole room. What's keeping these two?"

"I think I can hear them …"

"I think I can hear the stairs collapsing – oh, right, that's the one, Eri, well done! Now let's see. I think we covered all the baby things. Now for the mom things …"

"What are those?"

"Baby sling – one, two, three check – maternity bra, quite a few – check, breast pump – um, don't ask please – check, camera for photos - check, camera for videos – check, London selfie enlarged and framed – check, the Toesucker picture even larger – check, the birthday photo – check –"

"Wait. Photos. That's it!"

"What?"

"There should be a photo of all of us too."

"Oh. Okay … Should we take it now?"

"Well, before it's too late I'd say."

"Right. We can put the camera on the changing table. And stand around the bassinet … Yup, looks good! All set?"

"Wait! Wait! Mom, can the chick and the duck be on the photo too?"

Monica winced. "Oh sweetie, you know I don't want them in here …"

"Please, Mom!"

"But you have to keep them in the box and only take them out for the photo. And if I find birdpoop in here afterwards …"

But the twins already raced out of the room again. Monica sighed deeply.

"Relax Mon. They're still quite tiny. If they poop, it'll be on their hands and not on the carpet – um, I guess that doesn't make things better?"

Monica smiled wanly. "Not really. But you're right. I'm just freaked. I just can't imagine what it will be like when it's here … it feels so strange. I've waited so long for this and now – I'm freaked."

He put his arm around her and drew her close. "I know. But don't worry. Remember when the twins were born? That first night in the apartment, when we had to borrow almost everything from Emma's stuff? But we managed. I don't know how anymore, but somehow we did. And I think this actually IS like riding a bicycle. You never unlearn it. Well, I'm sure you didn't. I don't know about me."

Monica looked at him quizzically and then grinned. "Oh you too. I'm not worried about that. Not in the least."

"Really? Because it really should be me freaking out. And actually I am. I'm freaking all over the place."

She sighed. "That's so nice. I wish I could believe it."

"Aw. I think someone needs a good long session with the stethoscope again."

"Sounds tempting, but not now, I have to start dinner and it's already getting late –"

"There's no hurry. Let's get this finished first - there they are! Guys, could you please bear in mind that if the stairs break, we'll have to install rope ladders and lower your mother down with a crane … Oh, you brought the box too, very smart. Okay, let's get the picture now. Take your places … Ready – set – go!"

"Dad! Photo face!"

"Ooops. Okay … Cheers! Well?"

Jack beat his sister to the camera to inspect the photo.

"Is it okay?" The twins looked at each other, silently conferring, and then grinned and high-fived. "Yes!"

"Oh good."

"Okay, then, put the birds back and wash your hands! I'm going to get dinner now. Could you help me up – um, oh god … oww … oh shoot, it woke up again. Ouch! Chandler!"

Chandler gently palpated her belly, gauging the intensity of the kicks.

"Sorry, but this feels like a serious workout session. There's nothing I can do now. I think you need to ride this one out for a while."

"But I have to get dinner!"

"No you don't. Guys? Any ideas?"

"Yay! **PIZZA!**"


	20. Final Call part 2

A/_N I'm so so sorry guys, but this still isn't it. I know, I know, I've been really really stretching it thin and I'm very aware that this isn't very realistic anymore (but then what about this pregnancy is?), but really it was either this way or cheat. And with cheating I mean changing last year's calendar. Which I actually had considered for a while, but couldn't really bring myself to do while there was still a slim chance to explain the delay. A delay caused by an initial screw-up of mine when I tried to arrive at the conception date by calculating backwards from the birthday of the LTC (which I had already decided on when most of the story was still in the planning stage) and thought St Valentine's Day was just too good to pass up. But at least it means the story gets two more chapters – maybe even three - or two and an epilogue. And yes, I know that dragging it out like that makes it look like I'm just trying to rake in more reviews, but please believe me that this wasn't my intention at all. (Though it would be really cool if the count did arrive at 200 – an author can still dream, right?) No, this is just me trying to make the best of the situation and hoping that you still like it. _

_And not only will the next chapter after this - #21 – definitely be it, the long awaited birth chapter, but I also promise to have it ready to post on Thanksgiving Day, first thing in the morning, just as it should be. It's really the least I can do. _

_._

.

**.**

**Day 280 (week 41/43) Nov. 20****th****. (1 week after the official due date)**

.

"Don't tell me. It's still not ready, right?"

Dr. Lotz sighed deeply as she finished her examination of Monica's cervix, straightening up again and spreading her hands. "I'm sorry, but – well, no, the cervix is still not ripe. Not anywhere near it even. I know the baby's dropped already, but that doesn't really mean anything, just that it'll be soon."

"But shouldn't it have been born by now?"

"Of course it should! It's overdue actually. And I have to admit, I wouldn't have believed it from somebody else. But there it is. Unless you want to induce labor or have a C-section –"

"No!" They both said it at the same time, quite emphatically too, and Dr. Lotz nodded and smiled.

"I wouldn't recommend that either. Not yet at least, while everything's still fine. And you are fine, that's for sure, and the baby's doing really good too. There's absolutely no problem that I can see. Your values are great, the baby's got enough fluids too … is it still kicking as much as before?"

"Oh yes!"

"You should see its uppercut!"

Dr. Lotz snorted. "I believe you. And how about you, what do you think? Are you still holding up or do you want this to be over? Is it getting too uncomfortable for you?"

Monica sighed deeply. "I don't know. I'm not really uncomfortable, at least not more than I was until now. And I can still take it. But it feels so weird. And I'm getting really worried too. Are you sure it's still safe?"

"If it keeps moving as much as before and doesn't slow down, and if you don't feel any pain or discomfort – then yes, I'd say it's still safe. Not for very much longer though, I can assure you of that at least."

"How much longer?"

"Two days? Maybe three. Or four. Could be next week, but that would really be stretching it."

"Next week? But that's Thanksgiving week!"

"What? Oh, you're right. But it's still a week away, so don't worry, it'll come before that."

"I'm not worried about that. It's just that I always host Thanksgiving dinner for our friends and I thought I'd be home again then, with the baby …"

"You will. I'm sure you will. Thanksgiving dinner, huh? Traditional and all, with a turkey?"

"Yeah, like always, and I preordered it already too."

"Well, you might want to think about getting some help with that. Whatever you do, you mustn't overdo it. Take it slow, get as much rest as you can, and don't let anything stress you, under no circumstances!"

"I know. I won't. Chandler won't let me anyway – Chandler? What is it?"

Chandler started almost violently and pulled himself together. "Huh? Oh sorry, got caught up with something. No, of course not, I'll chain her to the bed if she gets into too much stress."

Dr. Lotz smiled. "Sounds like a good idea. Alright, we'll give it a few more days. Again. But I want you to come in on Saturday again – that's alright, I'm on call anyway this weekend – and on Monday, and if there's still nothing doing, every day."

"And if it's still not here on Thanksgiving?"

"That's not possible. It'll happen before that, I'm sure of it."

Monica nodded reluctantly, seemingly satisfied and put her hands on Chandler's shoulders so he could help her up. As she swung her legs over the examining table he let his hands rest on her belly briefly again and closed his eyes.

Thanksgiving? Seriously?

He had completely forgotten about Thanksgiving and what a nightmare it still was to him, even after all that time. It was strange how after all those years the day still seemed jinxed to him. True, it had been on Thanksgiving 11 years ago that they had gotten the call that Erica had chosen them as parents for her baby. And while their Thanksgivings over the next ten years had always been quite eventful and often rather crazy, nothing really bad had happened on that day. If you didn't count things like their dinner nearly getting spoiled when the blackout happened right in the middle of Monica's cooking (fortunately it only lasted a few minutes), or their yard getting flooded when the stream overflowed, or Erica almost cracking her skull on the bathroom sink just when they were sitting down to dinner, and sporting a giant bump for nearly a week … And now their baby would be born on that day of all days? The day that still seemed cursed to him? Would that really change now? Could the baby really change it?

It made no sense really. But somehow it did.

Moreover, he suddenly was convinced that it did. And that his baby would indeed be born on that very day and no other.

"You know, Chandler was late. Three weeks, his mother said."

"Three and a half, actually."

"What? That's very unusual."

"Yeah, and I never thought that could happen with our baby, but what if it's hereditary?"

"That would be the first time I heard of something like that." Dr. Lotz shook her head emphatically. "No, don't even think about it. I wouldn't stand for it anyway. So, in the really really unlikely case it's not here by Thanksgiving, we'll induce labor on Black Friday. No, don't worry, it won't be any problem. In fact, I'll get you registered at the hospital right now. When the baby comes they'll be ready for you. How far away from the hospital are you?"

"About ten minutes going full speed."

"Don't rush too much though. And don't hesitate to call an ambulance, even if you're not completely sure. And keep calm. Everything's going to be fine. I know how that sounds, and yes, it's what I tell everybody, but I really believe that. Especially here. I've never had a case quite like this before."

"Like what?"

"Well … where the baby was so – I don't know. Good? Serene?" She glanced at the wall where 'the Toesucker' had a place of honor among the other baby pictures and smiled wistfully. "Happy?"

Monica and Chandler looked at each other, their grins widening.

"Yeah. Happy. That about covers it."

.

**Day 281 (1 week and 1 day after the official due date) Friday, Nov. 21****st****. **

.

"Mom, I learned a new song today! Can I play it to the baby?"

"Of course you can! What is it? Can you sing it too?"

"Um … yeah, but, um, Dad? Can you help me with that?"

"Sure, let's see … Oh, that one. Yeah, let's give that a try!"

He plugged in Erica's guitar and the amp while Monica settled on their sofa looking expectantly at their daughter. Then Erica counted silently to four and started the riff.

"_Come back! Baby come back!_

_Baby come back! Baby come back! _

_This is the first / time until today  
That you have run away  
I'm asking you / for the first time  
Love me enough and stay  
(All right) hey / (All right) hey  
(All right) hey, yeah …" **  
_

Chandler could see that Monica was trying hard not to cover her ears, but actually Erica was nailing the riff rather well. And at the second refrain -

"_Come OUT! Baby come OUT!"_

Monica gasped and laughed, and then couldn't stop laughing helplessly when Erica broke off and pouted.

"DA-HAD!"

.

**Day 282 (1 week and 2 days after the official due date) Saturday, Nov. 22****nd****.**

.

"Ha! And I thought Emma had been late! But compared to your baby, she was almost punctual!"

"It's only been two days more, Rachel."

"Two weeks! It's two weeks after the due date!"

"No, one week, Ross, I told you the due date was pushed back a week …"

"Excuses, excuses. Just admit it, your baby's late. Little Miss Tardy. Little Johnny-come-late!"

Monica sat fuming, compressing her lips to a thin line while her brother gloated and Rachel shook her head at him.

"At least Monica won't have to wait a whole day in a semi private labor room." Chandler said quickly and Ross and Rachel winced simultaneously.

"Yeah, I'd really hate to have that happen to you. Are you sure though?"

"Yes! We're already registered. Just need to go there."

"But it's Thanksgiving week! Won't it get crowded?"

"No. This isn't Manhattan, Ross. Actually this close to the holidays there's usually more room in the hospitals, not less."

"Ah. Well, I hope it won't turn out as crazy as Emma's birth. Remember how Janice turned up?"

Now it was Chandler's and Monica's turn to wince.

"Oh my god!"

"It's been ten years. Wouldn't it be about time she turned up again?"

"I think she moved to Arizona a few years ago." Monica's eyes widened. "But if she should decide to visit …"

There was a long pause while all of them thought about that.

"At least the baby didn't come on her birthday. That's something."

Ross frowned at that. "Why is that something?"

Chandler shrugged. "I don't know. But I remember her birthday was yesterday. Yeah, I know, I know, I don't know why I still remember, it's just one of those things. Maybe because it was on the last day of Scorpio ... or something."

"Scorpio? Oh right! So your baby's going to be a Sagittarius! Wow, the first Sagittarius in our family!"

"Um, my mom's a Sagittarius!" Rachel pointed out and Ross winced.

"Oookay … So Monica – what are you going to do if little Miss Tardy doesn't come this weekend?"

"I don't know. What does Uncle Rash think we should do? There is nothing we can do. Just wait – and play it by ear."

"Aw. This must be so hard for you. All this waiting."

"Yeah. But it could be worse."

"Can't you – you know, have the doctors start the labor -?"

"Induce labor? Yes, we could, and we will at some point. But not now."

"And there's no other way? Oh, have you tried sex?"

"RACHE!"

"Sex? You mean actual sex? Why didn't I think of that sooner?"

"But it works! Ross and I tried it when Emma was late –"

"We didn't have sex!"

"We so did!"

"No, we were just going to, when your water broke."

"See? So it worked!"

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but if that really worked, the baby would have been here last weekend already."

"What? Are you still having –"

"Or the day before yesterday."

"But how – I mean ..."

"Or this morning." Monica grinned at Chandler and they high-fived as Ross stared at them.

"Sorry, Ross, I really think it's just a myth. But we are very willing to try again. Maybe it'll work tonight."

"Or tomorrow."

"Ugh, no! I cannot believe you two!"

.

**Day 283 (1 week and 3 days after the official due date) Sunday, Nov. 23****rd****.**

.

"Oh, Jack, hi! How are you? And Judy? Oh great. No, it's okay, Monica is right here, I'll pass you on, okay? No – no, the baby's not here yet … Yes, we we're just back from the doctor. Yes, she thinks it's strange too. But she's not worried, and neither is Monica … What? Have we tried - ? Yes, Rachel asked us that already, and, um, actually, yes, we have. Several times in fact. Didn't work so far, but we're not giving up yet … What? It worked with Ross? Well, but he wasn't late, was he?"

.

**Day 284 (1 week and 4 days after the official due date) Monday, Nov. 24****th****.**

.

"Oh no. Still not ready? How can this be?"

"I truly don't know." Dr. Lotz shook her head, almost slumping. "I'm really sorry, but – I really hate to admit this, but I'm stumped. I have no explanation at all for this. Not anymore."

Monica sighed. "This is getting ridiculous!"

"I agree. But all I can offer you is that we induce the birth now."

"What? Now? Today?"

"Well yes, or tomorrow. Whenever you want."

Monica looked at Chandler, her expression almost panicked.

"Chandler? Chandler, stop humming!"

" ... _Baby, come out_ … Hmmm, what?"

"Chandler! Should we induce the birth today?"

"Today? But this is so sudden!"

Dr. Lotz snorted and frantically hid her face in the crook of her arm as Monica glared at him.

"Sudden? Chandler, it's been 2 and a half weeks!"

"One and a half. Okay, okay. But it's really you who should decide that."

She sighed deeply. "I know. But what do you think?"

"Me? Okay … if you really want to know … I think it will come on Thanksgiving."

"WHAT?"

"Well, you asked. That's what I think."

"Oh my god. On Thanksgiving? How do you know?"

He shrugged. "I just do. A gut feeling I guess."

"No way." Monica narrowed her eyes at him. "I just … I can't believe it."

"Me neither actually." Dr. Lotz put in and Chandler shrugged.

"Still, that's what I think. But, if it's not safe to wait until then …"

They looked at the doctor again who winced and sighed.

"This is so crazy. But I guess, three more days won't make much of a difference. Of course I could be wrong."

"Will you be here on Thanksgiving?" Chandler asked. The doctor shook her head regretfully.

"No, but I won't be far away. If the baby should come then, the hospital will call me. No, it's no problem, actually I wouldn't want to miss this for the world. This is really one for the books!"

Monica leaned back and closed her eyes. "Okay. Okay. We'll wait. I can't believe I'm saying this, but – alright. We wait." Then she opened her eyes again to glare at Chandler. "But I still don't understand how you can be so sure."

He sighed. "Me neither. I'm just sure."

Her eyes narrowed. "How sure?"

"What do you mean? Oh – oh, no. Seriously? You want to bet on this?"

"You don't? So you're not sure after all?"

"I didn't say that. But what do you want to bet?" He raised his hands defensively. "I mean in the totally unlikely case that I win, of course."

Monica pondered this. "Hm. I don't know actually. It's … why don't you chose something?"

"Okay. Okay. If I'm right and the baby is born on Thanksgiving, I – get to decide on the name."

Monica opened her mouth and shut it again, seemingly torn.

"Um … okay. You choose the name. Only the first name though. We've already decided on the middle name" she explained, turning to the doctor, who smiled noncommittedly.

"So, what about me? What's your stake?"

Monica grinned at him. "If the baby's here before Thanksgiving – that is, before midnight on Wednesday – then, Mister, you will have to eat my turkey."

Chandler's jaw dropped.

"And the stuffing. And the yams. AND the cranberry sauce."

"Oh. Oh god. Okay … Okay, I'll try. Can't promise anything though." He caught the doctor's puzzled glance and just shrugged. "I don't eat Thanksgiving food."

"He hasn't eaten it for – wow, 37 years! And you never ate mine."

"That's not true. I ate the yams three years ago."

"One. You ate one! And wanted to spit it out again!"

"I made the cranberry sauce, back when we got the twins."

"You washed them with soap! Well, anyway, you're so going to do it now, mister. At least one helping of everything, you eat it and you keep it down. That's my bet." Monica pushed herself up from the examining table and sat up. "Wow, I suddenly got a whole lot of ideas for this meal! There's this stuffing recipe I saw recently … Ooh, I've got to write them down right away!"

Chandler grinned as he helped her down. "Good thing Joey's coming this year."

"Wait though, what if the baby doesn't come on Thanksgiving either?"

"Then we'll induce the birth on Black Friday." Dr. Lotz handed them Monica's pants. "And you get to name the baby after me."

They both froze, staring at their doctor with their mouths open. Chandler was the first to recover. "Um … well, okay, but – sorry, but what was your first name again?"

"No problem." She smiled at them sunnily. "Actually it's Wendy."

.

**Day 285 (1 week and 5 days after the official due date) Tuesday, Nov. 25****th****. **

.

When he woke up, after an obscure and confusing dream where he kept taking hold of the little tough cookie only to find that he was holding a teddy bear, or a bag of groceries, or the duck (the one that he and Joey had kept at their apartment) in his arms instead of his baby, it was still very early. He didn't need to get up, the twins' school was closed Thanksgiving week and he hadn't even needed to ask his boss to have the whole week off too. Just like his colleagues, neighbors, friends and in-laws - everybody really – Steve could hardly wait for the baby to be born and kept asking after it. It was quite a relief to escape all that and be able to just concentrate on how the little tough cookie fared. And worry about its arrival in this world, both the time and the manner. How it would affect Monica, if she would be able to stand it, if it would be long and painful – or short, but equally painful for her – or if it would have to be delivered by a C-section after all in case its position didn't let it be born naturally. And after the birth, would everything be alright with it? Dr. Lotz had assured them that everything looked great in the sonograms, no indication for anything wrong or abnormal that she could find, but of course that didn't preclude everything. Which was why he found it impossible to go back to sleep again. He knew that after two more days he wouldn't be able to get a decent night's sleep for a very long time and that this was his last chance for a good rest, but he also knew that it was hopeless to even try. So he got up instead and went to the bathroom for a pee, staring at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, and grinning wryly as he remembered how he had stood here nine months ago, in the exact same place, to check Monica's tampons. On an impulse he opened the cabinet door and looked at the boxes again. The pads he had watched then had long since gone, actually been replaced a couple of times, but the tampons, both the normal and the supersized were still there, in the same boxes. Normal size tampons: three and a half layers, 3 tampons on the top layer. Super tampons: two layers, with one tampon missing in the top layer. No change. He closed the door again and returned to their bedroom, carefully getting into the bed again and squeezing in next to Monica who naturally had claimed the empty space immediately after he had vacated it. After some very gentle prodding he got her to turn over without waking up and let him spoon against her, his hand on its accustomed place near the navel at the top of her swollen belly. After a while he felt the little tough cookie slowly squirming and undulating under the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, smiling. As he started to trace small circles and figure eights on Monica's belly, he tried to push his worries aside and think of things he could still do. Precautions. Preparations. Emergency plans.

Of course Monica had her suitcase packed already, had actually unpacked and repacked it about twenty times since she had first got it ready. They kept it in the wardrobe closet in the hallway, ready for picking up as soon as they needed to go to the hospital. Among other things it contained towels and a blanket that they could put on the car seat. He had secretly put another blanket and a couple of small, fluffy towels on an empty shelf in the closet, for no particular reason, just a whim really. And although he was very familiar with all the routes he could take to get to the hospital, he had made a couple of dry runs on his way to work in the last week, just for safety, and had also programmed the fastest route into the GPS of their car, so no time would be lost in case somebody else would have to drive them. That would also ensure that the somebody in question would not choose the shortest route which only looked faster on the map, but actually wasn't the best choice, especially in fall and winter.

Try as he might there was nothing more he could do that he could think of. Except watching over Monica and the little tough cookie all the time. Until it was time.

.

**Day 286 (1 week and 6 days after the official due date) Wednesday, Nov. 26****th****. Thanksgiving Eve**

.

"That's strange. I should be able to see something, but there's just nothing."

"Phoebe! Nothing? Really? Then what is this?" Monica patted her belly while Phoebe sat back on her heels.

"Oh, yeah, of course, I didn't mean that. I meant … well, I can't see the aura. The baby's aura. It doesn't seem to have one. Yours I can see – yes, it's actually very clear. Very intense. Oooh, it's turning red, that could mean you're angry. Are you angry?"

"You just told me that my baby was nothing, and that it has no aura, of course that makes me mad!"

"Oh. Well, if you put it that way … But really, it's not such a big deal. I'm sure it has an aura, it's just that I can't see it."

"Like with me" Chandler remarked and Phoebe smiled at him sunnily.

"Yes, exactly, only I've gotten better at yours. But the baby – well, maybe when it's born."

"So you can't tell either if it's going to be born tonight or tomorrow?"

Phoebe shook her head regretfully. "No, sorry, no way. I wish I could."

"It doesn't matter. I'm so glad you will be here, no matter if the baby comes or not. That's really a big help!"

"That's okay, I'm happy to help out. It was either that or endure three days with Mike's parents – and I know that would have ended very badly for all concerned. Ooh, by the way, he didn't know when he would be here tomorrow, but he thinks no later than three. Three-ish."

"That's okay. The others will be late too. Rachel's picking up Joey from the airport at 2 p.m. with the kids and Ross will probably arrive here around this time too. And the twins have a Thanksgiving thing in their school. Just as long as everybody's here around four, I'm not worried."

"But what if the baby –"

"It won't. I don't believe it'll come by itself. Not anymore. It's been too long. I'm beginning to think it just doesn't know how."

"Really? Well if you're sure … You know, I'm sure it will turn out alright. I'm getting really good vibes from this baby!"

"Thank you, Phoebe. Actually we know that already."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, everybody says that. Even our doctor said that it's a happy baby."

"It's very infectious too. It made Ross fall asleep in 2 minutes flat!"

"AND my mother too. It's incredible!"

"Wow. Is that why you don't want it to be born yet?"

"Phoebe! Of course not! We've been waiting for three weeks for it to be born! Actually, if it doesn't come today, I'm losing my bet, so yes, of course I really need it to get out now!"

"Your bet? You bet on this? Oh. Oh Mon, I'm so sorry, that really must be killing you!"

"Not really." Monica leaned back against the backrest and closed her eyes. "I know it's strange, but I really don't care anymore. I know we'll have it on Friday, and nothing else matters. Just as long as it gets born, one way or another, and that it's okay, and healthy, and that it doesn't hurt too much. That's all I ask. All that is – except for one thing …"

"Which is?"

Monica opened her eyes and looked at Chandler. "Is there some way that we don't have to call it Wendy?"

"If it gets born tomorrow ... or if it's a boy?"

"A boy? No, I checked already, if it's a boy we have to call it Wendell."

.

.

** "Baby Come Back" by The Equals, 1966


	21. Thanksgiving Baby

**Day 287** (2 weeks after the due date) Nov. 27th. (Thanksgiving)

.

**6.30 a.m**.

Even before he got fully awake he was already putting his hand out, groping for Monica and the bump, and starting up in a panic when he didn't find her right away. However, when his eyes flew open he saw her sitting up with her feet dangling over the edge of the bed and heaved an almost audible sigh of relief. Monica just giggled at his expression or maybe at the state of his hair.

"Whoa there! Relax. It's not the baby. I just need to pee."

"Of course you do. Why didn't you wake me?"

"You were sleeping so peacefully just now, I thought I'd try if I could do on my own … um … wait, just give me a minute … ooomm …"

He turned on his side, supporting himself on one elbow. "Sure, go ahead and try. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

She shot him a dirty look and tried to relax again, gathering her strength.

"Oh god, it's really high time that this is over. I can't remember even what it's like to be able to get up on my own. To sleep on my back. Or my belly. Not having to pee every hour – or every half hour. Have real coffee. To fit into my pants again ..."

"To have sex with me on top?"

She smiled and wagged her head a little. "Um – maybe. The jury's still out on that one. But I think it's on the list too."

He scooted a little closer and stroked her back, slipping his hand under her t-shirt. "I'm sorry that it's so hard on you. And that it's taking so long." When she leaned back he sat up so she could rest against him with her head on his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her and cupped her belly in his hands.

"Aw, don't be. I wouldn't have missed this for the world. This is so –"

"I know."

She turned her head slightly at this to brush her lips over his neck. "You really do, don't you? That's the most amazing thing of all for me."

"What?"

"That you're so – great with all of this. I don't think it would have been so amazing all the time if you hadn't been so … supportive. So into this."

"Sh. It's not that much. I wish I could do more." He felt her smiling against his neck and her breath on his skin as she exhaled.

"You've really done enough. Be careful what you wish for." Just then he felt the little tough cookie turn and wiggle around under his hand and they both held their breath, laughing softly together afterwards. "And it's not over yet. Although … do you realize that if you're right and the baby gets born today – that this will be our last time in bed together like this?"

He slid his hand a little further up to cup her breast, gently teasing one nipple.

"So it is. Shouldn't we, um, celebrate that?"

"Um … sounds really tempting, but ... sorry, I really need to pee now."

"Right. Me too actually."

.

**9.15 a.m.**

"Happy Thanksgiving! Sorry I'm so late."

"Hey, happy Thanksgiving to you too, Pheebs! Don't worry about it. We had to get the twins ready anyway. Did you sleep well?"

"Actually yes, once I turned off the baby phone. All of them that is. How many are there?"

"Oh, sorry about that. I keep forgetting which ones I already tested-"

"That's okay. Actually I liked Chandler's singing. It was so soothing!"

"Yeah, we really should have recorded it. I'm so going to miss that!"

"If the baby doesn't come today, we could still make a record of my greatest hits. Like 'The Babysinger Special'? 'Best of the Baby Whisperer'?"

"Oooh, I'd love that! Monica, you've got to hold it in for one more day!"

"Don't worry, Pheebs, I don't think it will come today."

"You're sure? Babies can be really sneaky."

"I know! But it really can't come today. At least not before dinner. There's still so much to do!"

"Not for you, Mon. You shouldn't really do anything."

"The doctor said if I had help …"

"That same doctor also promised me a slow and painful death if I let you do anything strenuous – or anything at all really."

Monica sighed exasperatedly. "But the dinner …"

"Most of it is finished anyway. Phoebe can do the rest while you watch her and I watch you both."

"How about instead of just watching you give us a hand with the cooking?"

"Mon, we've been over this. I really don't think me soaping the yams and cutting off my thumb really counts as helping."

"Oh, but maybe you could sing?"

"Sing for my dinner? There's an idea!"

Monica sighed again. "Alright, have it your way. Oh my, who would have thought I'd ever miss the time when all you were watching on Thanksgiving was the parade?"

.

**1.25 p.m.**

"Mon, if you're that tired, you should sit here, put your feet up and watch the parade."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. You keep rubbing your back."

"Just once, I had an itch!"

"No twice. I saw it! Now sit down and no arguing. Remember, if the doctor kills me, it's your fault."

"But I can't - the dinner table needs to be set …"

"We set it already. It only needs the special china, and you always keep that back until the last minute anyway."

"And the wine …"

"… is ready too."

"But the desserts …"

"Ross and Rachel are bringing them and yes, I already reminded them. Twice. They'll be here as soon as Rachel's decided what to wear ... just kidding. Actually I think they'll be on time for once, since Joey wanted to come on his own. Now will you please relax and watch the parade?"

Monica hesitated for a moment, then she leaned back meekly and put her feet up.

"Okay fine! There. Satisfied?"

"For now …"

"I should warn you though, in about ten minutes I'm going to have to pee again, and I need to check on the turkey once more."

"Okay, duly noted. One pit-stop, one inspection."

"Oh, and I'll have to change at some point, might as well do it now."

"Change? Why? You're fine as you are."

"Chandler, I can't stay in my sweats at Thanksgiving dinner!"

"Why not? Who cares? Not me. You're two weeks overdue, you need to be comfortable first of all."

"Well, I wasn't exactly planning on wearing my best evening dress! But at least another shirt, okay? Pleeeaaase?"

Chandler put on a dubious face. "Hmm, let me check with the doctor first …" He ducked Monica's cuff and threw up his hands. "Okay, okay. One pitstop, one change, one turkey inspection … starting in minus five minutes and 30 seconds. Five minutes and 25 seconds. Five minutes and – ouch. Not so hard, you need to keep your strength up! Alright, might as well get it over with, I guess."

He bent down to help her up and they slowly made their way up the stairs and to the bathroom, where he waited and fidgeted until she was finished, and then escorted her to their bedroom. It seemed like an eternity to him until she had decided on the clothes she wanted to wear and sat down at the dressing table, grudgingly allowing him help when she couldn't get into the woolen tights on her own. All the while he found it harder and harder to hide his nervousness and the fact that she seemed much more out of breath than usual didn't help any.

"Chandler, I'm sorry, but you're really driving me crazy with this. Will you please calm down?"

He sat back on the bed and let his shoulders slump. "I'm sorry, but ..."

"I know." Her gaze softened and she took his head into her hands, turning his face so he met her eyes. "It's okay. I'm fine! Really, I feel okay."

He tried to smile back at her. "Sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. And if you don't believe me, ask the baby." She guided his hands to her belly. Without letting go he got on his knees in front of her and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself by concentrating on the little tough cookie under his hands, like he had done so often in the last nine months. And trying to forget that this could very well be the very last time he did this.

Hey there, he thought. How about it? Up for a little change of scenery? A little fresh air, a little sun maybe … meet some nice people who can't wait to see you?

Monica laced her hands on the back of his head and brushed her lips over his forehead.

"Chandler … I appreciate that you're doing this, that you're so worried about me. I really do. And also –"

"Mon? Are you up there?"

"Phoebe?! What's up? Yes, we're coming!" She started up much too quickly, winced and sank back. "Oh no, I knew I needed to check on that turkey!"

"Don't worry, Phoebe'll see to it that it doesn't fly away … Okay, easy does it. One step at a time. Oookaayyy … We're coming, Phoebe! Only seven stairs more … Stand by … only six more …"

Phoebe put her head out of the kitchen door and grinned at them.

"Oh, there you are!"

"Phoebe? Is something wrong? Did you burn something?"

"Burn? No, of course not!"

"Then why did you call me?"

"Relax! Only it just occurred to me – we have nothing for Chandler to eat!"

Monica's eyes widened. "Right! Oh my god, I totally forgot – I just thought –"

"- that I would have to eat the turkey?"

"Well … I guess. I'm so sorry."

"That's okay. I'll have a sandwich."

"You just had a sandwich."

"Then I'll have another. Really, it's no big deal!"

Monica looked almost ready to cry. "But it is! How could I forget that?"

"I guess you just had too much on your plate …"

"Mon?" Phoebe put her hands on Monica's shoulders. "Hey, Mon, look at me. Okay, now breathe! There. Feeling better? Okay. Alright. Now get in here and check your turkey. Which I believe is doing great, but it can't hurt to check. While you're doing this, Chandler can hunt up something for him to eat in the fridge. Okay?"

"Okay" Chandler said meekly in Monica's place who shot him a wry look and just shook her head. While she checked the dishes on the counter and the turkey in the stove he brought her a chair to sit on and then joined Phoebe at the window when they heard a car approaching on the street and slowing down when it reached their driveway. Phoebe craned her head and suddenly started to squeal.

"Hey, it's Joey! Yay!"

"What? So soon? Oh you're right, it is him!"

Phoebe was already running to the door to let him in and Chandler turned back to Monica.

"He must have got an earlier flight - - Mon? Mon?!"

Monica was sitting hunched over in front of the stove, holding on to the edge of the countertop with clenched hands and trying to breathe deeply with her eyes closed. When Chandler rushed to her she opened her eyes and wordlessly met his panicked gaze. All at once he felt as if his air supply had been cut off, so he couldn't breathe properly, let alone speak.

"Is … are you …"

She swallowed hard, taking another breath before she nodded. "Yes … I think so. Aha … ah … yup, I just had a contraction."

He gasped at that and drew her closer. "Are you sure? Of course you are … Shsh … it's alright. It's okay. Breathe … breathe through it … It's going to be okay, Joey can take us to the hospital … it's okay …"

She held on to the countertop for a few seconds more, then slowly relaxed, leaning back in his arms, her breath evening out again. "That's … that's good. It's over … Oh god. Oh god. Oh my … I wish-"

"What? That you'd believed me?"

She looked at him again and smiled wanly. "Um, that too … ah … but I meant, I wish I hadn't changed just now."

They laughed together almost hysterically at that until Chandler felt like he was running out of air again. His heart was hammering in his throat and he had to grit his teeth to stop from shaking.

"Okay … okay … we can do this. Don't worry." He wondered if he was actually trying to reassure himself rather than her and decided it didn't matter. Monica smiled again and took another deep breath.

"Right. I think it's over – for now. So we still have some time –"

"Hey! Helllooouh! Alright, there you are! Happy Thanksgi- hey, what's up?"

Chandler grinned at Joey over his shoulder. "Hi Joe. So glad you could join us! We're just having a baby!"

Joey's jaw dropped and he froze, his eyes widening. Phoebe who had entered the kitchen behind him let out a joyous squeal and shoved him roughly out of the way.

"Mon! Is it true? Is the baby coming? Oh yay!"

Monica smiled widely. "I think so … well, I hope so. I never had a contraction before, but … yeah, I'm pretty sure that was one."

"Oh my god!" Joey finally snapped out of his rigor. "What are you waiting for? Did you call an ambulance?"

Chandler took a deep breath and got on his feet. His knees felt like jelly and it seemed to him as if a swarm of bees had suddenly invaded his stomach, but his head had cleared and he was amazed to find that he could think reasonably again.

"No, that would take to long. You'll have to take us there. It's not that far, ten minutes, we can do this."

"Drive? Oh, yes, totally, of course. Alright, then let's go!" And he strode over to Monica as if he fully intended to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to his car.

"Joey, no, wait! I can walk by myself … um … well … give me a moment, okay?"

"But we have to go, the baby is coming!"

"Joey! We have still some time! That was just my first – well, one of my first contractions! It won't come for hours yet!"

"But what if you're wrong?"

"He's right, Mon." Phoebe was actually looking worried. "You really need to go. And don't worry about the turkey, I'll take care of it."

Chandler put his hands under Monica's arms to help her up.

"Her bag's in the closet in the hallway. There's a blanket too, and towels. Take everything you can find!"

"Right!" Joey had already rushed to the door by the time he had finished. They heard him rummaging in the closet and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor made Monica wince.

"Shouldn't we better call an ambulance?"

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to sit around waiting for it and then have our baby born in the kitchen. Or in the ambulance."

"Better than in the car! But I guess you're right. Wait, though – Phoebe!"

"Yes, Mon. You can leave everything to me."

"Sure? You need to turn off the oven –"

"In half an hour. I know! Mon, just go have your baby, everything will be alright here. Ross and Rachel are due any minute now. We'll take care of your dinner together!"

When Monica still hesitated, Chandler just stooped and swung her up in his arms, wincing at her weight. Monica gasped and Phoebe cheered, giving him a thumbs-up, and then ran to hold the door open for him. The still open closet in the hallway looked as if a tornado had gone through it and Monica moaned again.

"Oh no …"

"Just don't look!" Chandler panted. "Phoebe will take care of it …right?"

The door had been left open and as he stepped outside he saw Joey with his head and shoulders inside a big dark blue car, struggling with a blanket on the backseat. It was the car he must have rented for the drive from the airport. For a moment Chandler wanted to protest and insist that they take his car, but then he realized that it was more convenient and much faster this way, and he put Monica down close to it, grateful both to be relieved of the weight and that he had made it to the car.

"Got everything?" Joey backed out and nearly bumped his head on the doorframe. "All set! Here, I'll give you a hand …" Together they managed to get Monica safely on the backseat that Joey had covered with a blanket and even more towels than he remembered putting in the closet in the first place. The big duffel that contained everything Monica had thought she could possibly need – and then some - was sitting on the other end of the backseat, with some smaller towels draped over it.

"Chandler, what's the name of the hospital?"

"Westchester Medical Center!" Monica craned her head to look at the display from between the front seats. "There it is, the first in the list – that's the one. No, not that route!"

"Why not? It's the shortest!"

"There could be road stops on the lakeshore. Take the second one, it's the fastest." Chandler got in and shut the door. "Come on, let's go!"

Joey started the car and then stuck his head out of the window once more.

"Pheebs? Don't let them eat all of the turkey, okay?"

"I'll save you a piece. Alright, two pieces. Three! Now go!"

And they were off, with squealing tires and Joey grinning like a loon. Chandler wished he could share his exhilaration, but he just couldn't shake off his feeling of foreboding.

"Left, Joey! No, the other left!"

"Alright, I got it! Relax! Um, Mon, how do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Joey, just … ah … um … ow!"

"What? What is it?!"

"Drive, Joey! I got this!" He put his arms around Monica and patted her back. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I just had another contraction and – ah … oh god. Oh god."

"What?" Even Joey flinched at the panic in his voice and Chandler pulled himself together with an effort. He couldn't let himself panic. Not now, not with Monica shaking and clenching her hands around his until he thought he could hear the bones in his hands crunch together. Then she started up suddenly, her eyes widening, and sharply drew in her breath.

"Mon? What is it? Are you okay?"

"Um … oh god … I think …" she lowered her voice again so Joey wouldn't hear. "My … my water just broke ..."

Chandler's jaw dropped and he held his breath. Oh no, not that. They weren't going to make it in time, and it was all his fault. He should have taken Monica to the hospital much sooner, should have foreseen that something like this was going to happen … Now all was lost, now –

Then Monica moaned again, very softly, but it was enough to snap him out of his frozen stance. This was no time to panic, he had to do something. Help her, no matter how.

"Sh. Shsh. It's alright. We can do this. It's going to be alright. Here, get on your back – yes, like this, put your head on the bag … now put your legs up – yes, it's alright, Joey must have put about twenty towels on the seat, so don't worry." Ignoring Monica's protests he took off her slippers, very grateful that she hadn't bothered to put on shoes or even boots, and, scooting backwards against the car door, raised himself up on his knees to crouch over her. Monica grabbed at his shoulders, digging her fingers into his hair and his shirt as he pushed up her skirt and started to tug down her tights. For a fleeting moment it occurred to him how their positions would suggest something entirely different from what was actually going on to anyone who would just happen to see them like this. But he really had no time for such thoughts now. Monica was desperately trying to control her breathing and calm down and he wasn't faring much better.

Please, please, please, just a few more minutes … but no. They had run out of time.

"Chandler … do you think – the baby, is it -?"

He swallowed heavily and then nodded. "I don't know, I really hope not, but I think – yes."

"Oh god, what if something's wrong? What if it's breach? Or the cord -"

"Shsh. Don't worry. Just breathe. We can do this. Breathe … breathe …"

"Guys, what's happening?"

"I don't know, Joe. Just drive, get us there, okay?" Joey involuntarily turned his head to look back and started violently, jerking the wheel a little, before he snapped around again and stepped on the gas, fiercely muttering something under his breath that sounded very Italian and very bad. Chandler braced himself with one leg against the back of the front seat, hanging on for dear life while he fumbled at Monica's wet tights and panties. He had just succeeded to get one of her legs free when her body tensed and stiffened again, her moans turning into a scream.

"Oowww … oh, aw, oowwww…" As her hands clawed and tightened on his shoulders again, he leaned forward to hold her down until the contraction passed again.

"Breathe … breathe … yes, like that … you can do this, you were the best in the class! Breathe …" And she did, drawing in air in short huge gasps. Chandler slid his hands over her belly, noting how hard, almost rigid it had gotten and then gently pushed her thighs apart for a look. And nearly froze with shock at what he saw. When Monica noticed his expression, she lost her rhythm and started to pant hectically.

"What? What is it? Chandler! Talk to me!"

He raised his head, dumbly meeting her gaze. "It's … it's coming. I can see it! I can see the head!"

Monica went pale at that, her eyes widening so much he could see a ring of white around the blue. "WHAT? OH MY GOD … It can't … I can't …"

With a huge effort Chandler pulled himself together. "Shsh. Yes, you can. We can. We can do this. Just breathe. Breathe … and push. I'm here, I got it, just –"

"Guys! We're here! We made it! There's the emergency room, let's get – oh my god!"

Chandler kept his eyes on Monica and tried to speak as calmly as possible. "It's too late, we can't get her out of the car. Joey, you have to go and get help."

"But –"

"Get out, Joe!" Dimly he heard Joey scramble out of the car and then run towards the emergency entrance of the hospital, waving and shouting at the top of his lungs. Then Monica wailed again, throwing her head back and all at once started to shudder as she tensed and bore down with a mighty effort, screaming as he had never heard her scream before. Acting on pure instinct he reached out for the baby's head as it emerged, just in time to catch his baby as it slid out in one smooth motion and neatly dropped right into his cupped hands. For a split second time seemed to freeze while he stared at it as he held it, warm, slimy and pulsing. And alive. He saw one tiny arm move, the little head turning blindly as it tried to open its mouth, the little body tensing and jerking. Feeling as if in a dream he wiped the tip of his thumb across the minute lips, carefully clearing the mucus away. Almost immediately the mouth opened and he felt his baby drawing its first breath.

Then it wailed and though it was hardly more than a soft whistle Chandler felt as if the sound went like a knife right through his brain and into his heart. Vainly trying to swallow the huge lump that had formed in his throat he raised his hands a little, holding the little tough cookie up so Monica could see it.

"We did it!" he croaked. "It's here!"

Monica gasped and reached out for it, shaking all over. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-" Very gently, as if it could break if he wasn't careful enough he deposited the baby face down on Monica's belly and she immediately cupped her hands over its head and back, holding it to her. Still shaking and panting Chandler grabbed one of the small towels on Monica's bag and put it over the baby until only the top of its head was visible. And the cord that he only noticed now, running from under the towel down to between Monica's legs and back into her.

"Oh god, oh my darling, my sweet … there, there, don't cry, it's alright, yes you're here, you made it ..." Monica squirmed, trying to raise herself and curl around the baby as much as possible while she kept stroking and soothing it. Still kneeling over her Chandler couldn't take his eyes off it as it lay under the towel, faintly squirming, the little head turned to one side, its face scrunched up and the eyes tightly shut. Then Monica looked up at him and they stared at each other over their baby between them.

"Chandler …"

"Yes. Yes!"

"We have our baby … oh god … it's so beautiful …!"

"I know. It is. It's – slimy and wet and so tiny! And so wonderful …" He lowered his head as she laughed breathlessly and she took one hand off their baby to grab him by the back of his neck and kiss him.

"Chandler … I'm so happy …"

"Shsh … Me too. More than happy." He was looking down at the baby again when Monica brushed her lips across his cheek and ear, whispering almost inaudibly: "Thank you so much …"

"For what?"

She smiled, her eyes very tender. "You know."

"But I –"

He was interrupted when someone pulled open the car door behind him, letting in light and a rush of cold air. And noise, of voices, footsteps, the sound of tires on the gravel …

"Ma'am? Sir? Are you alright?"

He straightened a little and tried to make room for the paramedic who had ducked into the car and now supported himself on the headrest while he craned his head for a look.

"Yes, we're okay. The baby's got out – it's born already."

"Okay, great! May I?" The paramedic shouldered a little further in and gently lifted a corner of the towel, grinning as the little tough cookie protested loudly against the sudden rush of cold.

"Yup, looks fine to me. Congratulations. Ma'am? How do you feel?"

Monica smiled at him brilliantly. "I'm fine!" A second paramedic opened the other car door behind her and just managed to catch the duffel as it was toppling over. She lifted it up and put it on the ground beside the car, and then put her hands against Monica's back to support her.

"Placenta's not passed yet, right? Alright, no problem. Ma'am? We're taking you out now, just hold on to the baby – yes, like that. Sir, if you could …"

"Of course." And he scrambled out of the car and stood up, taking in his surroundings for the first time since they had gotten into the car. Joey had driven them right up to the emergency entry. There weren't that many people about and just a few cars in the parking lot behind the helicopter pad. The two paramedics had brought a gurney which now stood close to the car.

"Chandler! Hey, buddy, how's it going? Is Monica okay?" Joey had come out of the emergency room and now hooked an arm around his shoulder.

"Yeah. The baby's born already."

"What? Oh my god! Wow, way to go, buddy! What's happening now?"

"They're taking her in, just have to get her out."

"Right. So? What is it, a boy or a girl?"

Chandler looked at him blankly. "I don't know."

"What? You didn't look? Man!"

"I'm sorry, Joe, but there was no time – " He broke off when he heard Monica start to groan and then scream again. The paramedic at her head started to look worried.

"Um, Matt, I think –" And Chandler rushed to the door.

"What's going on? Is something wrong?"

The first paramedic – Matt – shook his head. "No, it's the placenta I guess. Right, we'd better cut the cord - - Meg? Can you pass me some clamps? Thanks, there you go … lovely. Sir? Would you like to do the honors?"

As he cut his baby's cord for the second time in his life, just as amazed at the soft sponginess as he had been back then, his eyes met Monica's for a silent memoryladen look. Then the paramedic reached in to take the little tough cookie from Monica who had started to pant and moan again alarmingly. As Matt wrapped it securely in the towel the baby started to wail again lustily and Chandler held out his arms, claiming it even before the paramedic had to ask. Matt checked briefly if he was holding it securely and then ducked into the car again, leaving Chandler standing with the baby in his arms and feeling very strange, almost surreal all of a sudden. He looked down at the baby whose cries now slowly faded again, giving way to small wails and grunts, and tried to soothe it further by rocking it a little, rubbing and patting its rump and legs gently as it squirmed and tried to kick. Its face was still crunched up and it kept pursing its mouth and smacking its lips. What little hair it had, not much more than a soft fuzz on top of the little round head, had nearly dried. Chandler started a little as a tiny hand suddenly appeared under the folds of the towel and aimlessly flapped before it fell back again, and then grinned goofily, completely unable to take his eyes off it for even one second.

"Oh my god, will you look at that!" Joey stared at the baby, grinning from ear to ear, and then gently extended a fingertip to chuck it under the minute chin. "It's sooo cute! Hey there … cooockoo … my, will you look at that?"

"Yeah …" Chandler kept grinning and shaking his head. "Yeah, it is."

"So … can we check now …?"

"What?" he asked absentmindedly. It seemed to him that the baby was trying to open its eyes. It kept frowning and working its mouth and then, quite suddenly, the eyes were open and it was looking straight at him, and Chandler's breath hitched. The eyes were still unfocused and he couldn't make out their color exactly - a kind of milky blue grey - but it seemed to stare directly at him, with an expression of sleepy content.

"Hey, it's awake! Hey there! Hellooo!"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is …" He held the baby's gaze until its eyes closed again and the little head sank to the side as it suddenly fell asleep, then he took a deep breath and raised his head to check on Monica. She was now lying on the gurney, squirming and breathing through clenched teeth as the paramedics covered her up. When they started to push the gurney towards the hospital Chandler fell in beside them, taking care to hold the little tough cookie as steady as possible. Joey tried to keep up and look at the baby at the same time and nearly collided with a visitor in a wheelchair.

"You'd better take the car away" he told him and Joey nodded in agreement and turned around. Chandler hurried after the gurney through the entrance and was brought up short by a nurse who apparently had been waiting for them.

"Sir? Would you follow me please?"

"Yes … but what about my wife? What ..?" He could see Monica craning her head back for him and wanted nothing more than to run after her, but the nurse held him back.

"She's being taken care of, don't worry. She has to pass the placenta, and then she'll probably need some stitches – no big deal, please don't worry, that's entirely normal. You can see her immediately after that, but now we need to take care of your baby first."

"Oh. Right. Okay. Sorry, I'm a bit –"

She grinned and shushed him. "Of course you are, and no wonder. It's not every day we get babies born in a car. How did it happen anyway, did you wait too long until –"

"No, it was very quick, she just had a few contractions and then – it just happened. It was over in minutes. The fastest delivery you ever saw!"

"Your wife's pretty lucky then." The nurse – her name plaque said 'Regina' – led the way up a corridor past a waiting area where a few people were sitting on the chairs, reading or looking at their phones. No one took the slightest notice as he walked by with his newborn baby in his arms. There was a clock on the wall next to a door and passing it he noted the time: 15.20 p.m. and couldn't believe that only half an hour had passed since he had helped Monica down the stairs so she could check on her turkey. Then they arrived at what looked like a small delivery room. There were a couple of sinks and examining tables, and an office with two desks and filing cabinets behind a door in the far wall. When he stepped up to the examining table to put the little tough cookie down on a small mattress with a soft blanket on it, he saw that the office also had a sofa and a TV. The sound had been muted, but he still recognized the movie that was shown even from the short glimpse he caught. Sandra Bullock in a fancy restaurant, stuffing herself with steak and grinning at Michael Caine who looked ready to bolt. Gracie Hart, not yet Miss Congeniality at that point. Still one of his favorite movies.

"I said, could you please hold her while I get some oil?"

"What? Oh, of course. Sorry, I – um, yeah, I know." He smiled at the nurse and then suddenly started. "Um, did you say – her?"

"Uh-huh." Regina smiled, as he looked down at his baby that she had just unwrapped from the towel and now started to rub and massage vigorously. "Yes, her. As you can see … didn't you know?"

"Um – no." Chandler stared at his daughter, completely enthralled as she squirmed and squalled under the nurse's expert handling. "Not yet. We ... wanted it to be a surprise."

"Wow, you don't hear that very often either nowadays. Most of the time people want to know in advance. Couldn't you see it on the sonogram?"

Chandler patted his pockets looking for his phone and then brought up The Toesucker on it. "Could you have told from that?"

"Oh my god! I heard about fetuses doing that, but never – oh wow. What a little cutie you are! Now, let's get your weight, and your APGAR – that's just a routine test, for activity –"

"- pulse, grimace, appearance and, um – respiration was it?"

"Very good! She's not your first, isn't she?"

"No. Though it's been a while. But I guess it really is like riding a bicycle."

The nurse chortled. "Alright … That's a 9 for the APGAR, not bad at all. Shshsh, yes, yes, I know, you want your mommy … there, there you go. Yes, yes, I know, you don't like that at all, there, there. Can't deal with it all yet, can you? Shshsh. Now, let's see – that's 3120 … no, not quite – there. 3130."

"Is that good?"

"Sure, it's not much, but still in the normal range. She's full term, isn't she?"

"Um, yeah, more than that actually. She was two weeks late."

"Is that a fact? Wow, you waited this long, and then she got born so quick? That's really unusual, Mr. – oh, I totally forgot to take your name and all."

"That's okay. It's Bing. Chandler. In fact, we – my wife and I – are already registered here. Dr. Lotz - our doc - wanted to induce the birth tomorrow."

"She'll be glad then that you saved her the trouble … Okay, we'll do the full tests later, but for now everything looks great. Let's swaddle her up – there, that feels better, doesn't it? And you can have your towel back now. Good thing you had it with you … and here's a little hat. Now, let me get an isolette and then you two can get back to your wife. She'll be in the recovery room by now. I'll do the paperwork right away. Oh, by the way, do you have a name for her yet?"

"N-no. Actually we have tons of names, but we haven't picked one yet."

"Not to worry, there's no hurry" they both grinned at the rhyme. "I'll just put in 'Thanksgiving Baby' – sounds so much better than Baby Girl Bing. So … there you go, all set." As soon as she was lying in the heated isolette, the little tough cookie's protests stilled and she started to wiggle and kick against the swaddling cloth. When a hand got free she shoved two fingers in her mouth immediately and started to suck contentedly. The nurse laughed and Chandler grinned, feeling absurdly proud. They left the room and Regina led the way up the corridor this time, passing more examining rooms, offices and waiting areas. In one of the offices there was music from a radio and he recognized the song by its refrain.

'_And it's hard to say / who you are these days  
but you run on anyway - Don't you baby?  
You keep running for another place / to find that saving grace –' *  
_

"Don't' you baby?" he hummed to it, softly singing along. At the end of the corridor they passed a bulletin board covered with notes and flyers, with a small poster rather prominently in the middle announcing a Thanksgiving service called 'Time of Grace' in a local church. Then they turned the corner and found themselves in the recovery room where Monica was lying on a bed, already in a hospital gown and looking dreadfully tired. When she saw them coming her face lit up and she nearly jumped from the bed, only to sink back again wincing. He strode over to her and gathered her up in his arms, and for a long moment they just clung to each other almost desperately.

"Oh god, I'm so happy to see you – where is it? Oh, there … oh my god … come here, oh my little sweetie ..!" She held the baby to her chest and laughed breathlessly when the little tough cookie seemed to grab at a nipple right away.

"You can try to feed it if you want, Mrs. Bing" the nurse said. "I'll see to it that you have some privacy."

As soon as she left, Monica tugged down the hospital gown until one of her breasts came free and then held the baby close. The little tough cookie's lips closed around the nipple briefly, but let it go again soon after, scrunching its face up. Monica rocked it soothingly, and kept bringing it close to the nipple, until it finally remained in the baby's mouth for good and it abruptly ceased squirming, focusing all its energy on the feeding. Monica and Chandler stared at it raptly, hardly daring to breathe. When Monica raised her eyes to him they were swimming in tears.

"Oh my god … it's feeding … it's – what? Why are you grinning like that?"

"Because I was right" Chandler said sunnily as he leaned over her and gently rubbed the baby's back. Monica looked at him quizzically.

"Really? You were? About what?"

"Um, just about everything I guess. But no big deal."

"Okay, you were right about it getting born on Thanksgiving …"

"Yeah. That too."

"And what else – oh. Wait a moment. You – our baby …?"

"Is a girl. Told you!"

Monica's mouth dropped open. "A girl? Really? Oh my god!"

"Yes, check all you want." He smirked as Monica tried to peek under the swaddling. "A cute healthy Thanksgiving baby girl. That's what the nurse is going to put on the form you know. Thanksgiving Baby Bing."

Monica's gaze softened again as she looked down at their baby. "Oh my. Our Thanksgiving Baby. I can't believe it. What is it about that day?"

"I know. But I think – I'm finally reconciled with it. After this, how could I ever feel bad about it again?"

"Really? Does that mean you're going to eat –"

"Um, well – I think the jury's still out on that one …"

"Aw. Pity. But, hey, we almost forgot! You get to pick the name!"

"So I do."

"And?"

"What?"

"Do you? Do you have a name?"

"Maybe." Monica's eyes widened at that and she drew in a sharp breath.

"Chandler! Oh sweetie, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you … Channddlerrr! Well, tell me!"

Chandler leaned forward again until his forehead almost touched hers, and put his hand gently on the baby's head over the little cap.

"Alright, I'll tell you the name. But I need to tell you something else first – something my mother told me a couple of weeks ago. She said when I was born, my parents couldn't find a name for me, so my father went to look for a sign. There was a nurse who read a book by Raymond Chandler –"

"So that's what it was! And I thought you were called after Senator Happy –"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, kind of a letdown, isn't it? But what I meant –"

She caught on immediately, as always. "Huh, so you looked for a sign too? And?"

"I didn't look for it, but yeah, I saw a sign. Several in fact." Chandler took a deep breath.

"Her name is Gracie. Grace. Grace Eleanor Bing." He smiled widely at her. "And I'm putting my foot down on this."

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* "Saving Grace" from "Highway Companion" by Tom Petty &amp; The Heartbreakers, 2006


	22. Epilogue

Day One (Thursday, November 27th. 2014 – Thanksgiving)

.

"Guys? Guys? Can I come in? I'm like **dying** out here!"

Monica laughed so hard that the little tough cookie lost her nipple and squawked indignantly until she got hold of it again.

"Yes, come in, come in! Sorry, Joey, we didn't mean to forget about you …"

"It's alright." Joey approached the bed, trying very hard to not look at Monica's breast and grinned goofily at the baby. "It's feeding already? Do you remember how long it took Emma to figure it out?"

"Yeah. I still can't believe we have our baby. OUR BABY!"

Chandler and Joey both winced and held their ears. And looked puzzled when the baby never lost a beat. Joey cleared his throat.

"So – is everything, you know, okay?" Chandler and Monica both beamed rather besotted.

"Oh yeah. Everything's great. They haven't done all the tests yet, but she's already got nine on the APGAR …"

"Whoa ..!"

"Um, that's Activity, Pulse –"

"No, I meant, whoa! She? It's a girl?!"

Chandler's grin got even wider.

"Oh my god, you were right all along?" Joey stared. "And about the date of birth too! What is the matter with you?"

"I don't know, Joe. Guess I never really had to chance to screw that one up. She's just too perfect."

"He's got the most perfect name for her too!" Monica inserted happily. When the little tough cookie – little Gracie Chandler reminded himself – apparently had enough for the moment Monica gently held her against her chest, rocking to and fro, while the baby made content baby noises.

"Really? Oooh, don't tell me, you're going to call her Josephine?"

"No! Joey, we've been over that!" Joey pouted. "Besides, we already called Erica Josephine."

"Alright … So what's this one called then?"

Monica held the baby slightly away again, smiling down at her tenderly. Chandler put out a hand and gently took up one minute hand with the tip of his finger.

"Joey Tribbiani – I want you to meet Grace Eleanor Bing."

Joey's eyes widened as he stared reverently at the baby.

"Wow! You guys … Um, okay …" He cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. "So - how're yoooouuu doooing?"

.

By the time little Gracie had completed the third hour of her life they had been moved to a room in the maternity ward. They even had it to themselves, since the second bed wasn't occupied right now. All the paperwork had been done, the doctor notified, the pink wrist bands issued, and more tests been made (including a blood test which seemed to hurt Chandler much more than his baby – but then she wasn't the little tough cookie for nothing). Joey had phoned Phoebe who had spread the news to Mike and their children, Ross, who in turn informed his and Monica's parents, Rachel, Emma and Leo, to Ben who had arrived separately, to the twins and the soccer mom who had brought them home, and even their neighbors, and now the whole gang had gathered around Monica's bed to see the new baby and watch her sleep deeply and unperturbed among all the excitement. And take photos. And videos. And more photos, until it seemed to Chandler as if every single breath his baby was taking, every twitch of her eyelids, every slight stirring was immediately documented twice over. At least no one had tried to wake her, so they could take her up and pose for pictures with her, but he knew that it was only a matter of time and already dreaded that moment. As to the picture taking, of course he had participated himself in that too, so much in fact that he was starting to worry about the remaining memory of his phone. He had already sent dozens of pictures to his parents and promised them more photos as soon as little Gracie deigned to finish her nap and socialize a bit again. For now he was content to watch her sleep, together with the twins who seemed completely fascinated by their tiny new sister, and Ross who had veritably melted into a puddle the moment he had laid eyes on her. And bitterly lamented the fact that it had been Joey and not him who had arrived at their house in time to take them to the hospital.

"No offense, Ross, but I don't think we would have made it to the hospital in time with you."

"I still don't get how it could have happened so fast! And after that long delay!"

"Nobody can. It's unbelievable. Joey now wants to buy the car from the car rental agency. Just imagine it had happened in your car!"

"Yeah … I'd never be able to get rid of it. Although …"

"Yeah. Actually I wanted to buy that car too, Joey just beat me to it."

Just then Phoebe appeared in the door, jumping up and down and shouting to make herself heard.

"Everybody! Hey! Dinner is ready!"

Chandler and Monica stared at each other nonplussed. "Dinner?"

Only then he saw that everybody around them smirked and winked at each other, as if they were all taking part in a conspiracy that he and Monica had completely failed to notice.

Phoebe grinned. "Yes, dinner! You need to come down to the cafeteria. All of you. Monica, we brought you a wheelchair – yes I know, you can walk, but it's a long way and you need to rest. Come on!"

And down they went, Monica in the chair and Gracie still asleep in her isolette, filling two elevators to their capacity. At the cafeteria doors Chandler and Monica had to wait until everybody else was inside, then they were allowed to enter.

"Oh my god!" Chandler's jaw dropped and Monica had raised her hands to her face as she stared unbelievingly at the Thanksgiving dinner spread before them.

"My turkey! I don't believe this! I thought you had eaten it!"

Ross hooked an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. "Of course not! We could never eat it without you."

"But how -?"

"We just packed it up and took it with us, and the guys in the cafeteria kitchen agreed to heat it up for us. We even remembered to bring the desserts!"

"But not your special china, don't worry."

Chandler recovered enough to get out his phone again and take a photo of the dinner table. Someone – Mike probably – had made a sign that resided between two champagne bottles and simply said "Happy Thanksgiving Baby" and he suddenly found himself unable to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"Okay, guys!" Phoebe was jumping up and down again. "Before we start, can we get a photo of all of us in front of the table?" As they arranged themselves in front of the table, with the baby in the middle between Monica and Chandler who held the sign over it, she recruited one of the onlookers to take the photo – or all the photos on nearly every available camera, until the sight and smell of the turkey got too much for them to bear. And still Ross wanted another picture, this time alone with his niece, just as Chandler had dreaded. That the little tough cookie didn't protest, or not too much, was even worse.

"Careful, mind the head …!"

"Chandler! I've got kids of my own, you know!"

"Then you should know what it's like."

"Yeah. I do. But still, this is my niece! My first niece!"

"No, it's not!"

"What? Of course – oh, sorry. Um, my first – oh shoot. My sister's first baby … no? Oh man …"

"Ross, shut up and hold the baby." Chandler patted his shoulder. "But be careful please."

In the end they agreed to make photos of Gracie with three groups – Ross and Rachel with Ben, Emma and Leo, Phoebe and Mike with David, Lily and Francis, and then Joey with the twins. As soon as the last photo was taken Joey grabbed a chair and took a seat.

"Can we eat now? I'm starving!"

"By all means, let's, the turkey is getting cold!" Ross took up the carving knife and offered it to Monica. "Will you or should I -?" But she declined. "No, go ahead, that's fine."

Chandler pushed Monica's chair to the head of the table where they could park the isolette on the corner between them, then he took his seat beside her, and casually held out his plate after Ross had given Monica the first cut. Ross started to cut off a piece for him and then stopped with an expression of dismay.

"Oh no, we forgot Chandler's food!"

"That's okay, Ross, just put it there."

Ross hesitated, staring at him frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"And you're not going to -"

"Vomit it out again?" Chandler shrugged. "Maybe."

"Dude!"

"Or maybe not. I won't know until I tried, will I?"

And suddenly everyone at the table seemed to be staring at him wide-eyed as silence spread. As Chandler accepted the piece of turkey they all started to push the other dishes at him and, still with a nonchalant expression, he heaped helpings of yams, sprouts, cranberries and mashed potatoes on his plate. And the others around him watched him, silently holding their breath and, in Monica's case, clenching their hands on the table edge, while he picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of turkey and put it in his mouth.

And chewed.

And swallowed.

And looked up, meeting the silent stares of his friends. Joey's eyes especially seemed almost to fall out of his head. Rachel hid her mouth behind her hand and Ross was chewing on his thumb.

"What?!"

"Dude … you just … Are you alright?"

Chandler shrugged. "Sure."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You don't feel sick? Nauseous?"

"No." Chandler cut off another piece. "No, I'm okay. Mmmh – yes, it's okay." He smiled at Monica. "Delicious. Tell me one thing, though."

"Yes? What is it?"

"Has it always tasted like chicken?"

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A/N:

If you've read my other stories – or just this one even – you know that I don't go in for long author's notes. And I'll try to keep this as short as possible, but there are a few things I need to get off my chest, about this story, and what it means to me.

First I would like to mention some things where I took some inspiration and that I haven't mentioned yet: Everything I wrote about the baby's development/size/activities/capabilities I more or less took from the pregnancy division in the Babycenter website. Everything there looks and reads rather sappy and very condescending at times, but proved actually very helpful with all the necessary details. The pregnancy calculator they also have there was an invaluable help in getting all the due dates – not only of the TLC, but Chandler's too and that of the twins – straight and believable. Plus a lot of things mentioned in there inspired important plot points.

The inspiration for the birth of the TLC actually came from a novel: "Matters of Choice" (or "Choices" as it was originally called) by Noah Gordon, 1995. It's the third part of his Cole Family trilogy and right at the end Dr. RJ Cole has to deliver a baby still in the ambulance on their way to the hospital. There are quite a lot of memorable scenes in that book, but this one has always stuck firmly in my mind. It's a great book and well worth reading, but if you'd like to read only that scene, it's in the very last chapter (# 56 'Discoveries').

And last but not least, quite a lot of you guys have helped me – with information and tips, like Starbuckmeggie and Simplymondler, and with betareading like Spiralnebula31, both before and after posting, TropicalSummerBreeze, Simplymondler, Soligblomma, Chrisi2503, Matteney and Singmyangel with countless PMs that helped me get my head around plot problems and such, and of course, everyone out there who sent a review and let me know this way that they liked or even valued my story. To know that a story gets read is one thing – anyone can see that from the traffic stats and they can be quite reassuring too if you don't have anything else to draw on. I'm truly grateful for every single reader that appears there. But to see from a review that the story left enough of an impression on someone out there to make her write about how she felt about it – that's quite another thing altogether and I'm very grateful to everyone who did so (and hopefully will continue to do so. You can never have enough of a good thing, can you?)

And yet there have been some reviews that didn't sit so well with me, which brings me to the second part of this note.

All of my stories mean a lot to me. Although I'm not the fastest writer, I've written a good deal in my life, complete or unfinished novels, short stories, scenes, fragments, outlines – you name it. For those of you who are or at least speak German, one of my stories – pure fiction though and a totally different genre – can be found online, hidden away in my blog (the link is in my profile, both here and on twitter). But none of that stuff ever got read by more than two or three people at the most, and never before by a complete stranger until I started writing here. When I posted my first chapter a little over a year ago, I was completely thrown by the fact that it got read by some twenty people or even more almost as soon as it was online. And when I got my very first review for that very first chapter I posted here I had serious trouble believing it. Oh yes, that first review – unfortunately anonymous, but I'll never ever forget it. It only said "It has potential. The inner debates were funny", but I can't begin to tell you how proud it made me and how encouraging it was.

Is there anyone here who doesn't agree with Chandler here when he makes his concerns about everybody holding the baby for a photo known? After all it's a baby, a long awaited newborn baby, and here are more than a dozen overjoyed people of all ages wanting to hold it, one after the other, for a photo of the moment when they get to know it personally and up close for the first time – who could object to that? One of the many coincidences in this story is the birthdate – November 27th. Not only was it the day of Thanksgiving in 2014, but it also happens to be my niece's birthday. And I remember doing just that, in the hospital twenty years ago: holding her in my arms and getting my picture taken with her. There weren't as many family members present then, which seems to me quite fortunate in retrospect. I'm not sure I could do it now. Because it's a baby, you know, a newly born, tiny, fragile baby, whose eyes can easily be damaged by bright lights, let alone flashlights, and whose head needs to be supported all the time. And in a way, this story is my baby. A baby which turned out quite a surprise for me. When I started the story, I only wanted what Chandler did – to fulfil Monica's greatest desire, against all odds, and let her have a baby in a way that was both believable and special in its own way. And then it became so much more, like all stories do – I never fail to be amazed at how such giant trees of stories can grow from such tiny seeds. I never wanted kids and I'm always very insecure around them, let alone babies, but I've come to love this story as much as Chandler gets to love his little tough cookie. Writing this story – getting this baby born – was as much of a challenge as it was fun. My baby. That's what stories are, their writers' babies.

And now, picture yourself with a baby, a baby that took so much work and thinking and loving to get born, and imagine handing that baby to complete strangers to hold and admire it, ooh and aahh over it (hopefully), to handle it, expose it to light and noise, compare it to other babies, draw wrong conclusions from something in its appearance, examine it, squeeze it too hard or – in the worst case – make fun of it, let it drop or even steal it. With a baby that means so much to you, every little thing, complete trivialities you would otherwise not think twice about, get to hurt you a hundred times worse than any other thing ever would, and becomes completely blown out of proportion. Like a shark that can sense a drop of blood in the ocean from miles away writers can sense one word of criticism and nagging in an ocean of praise and admiration, and the greatest paradox here is that one little criticism among a flood of praise can hurt much more than a lot of it in a mere trickle of acclamation. You can get used to constant criticism, nitpicking remarks or unreasonable demands – you have to even if you want to stay in the game - but getting a lot of praise only makes you crave more and more of it, and then you become even more vulnerable to the few stray critical remarks when they hit home.

I've been very fortunate in that regard - almost all reviews said more than I expected and a lot of them arrived just when I needed them most - but I also had my share of reviews that were hard to swallow and even harder to ignore no matter how unremarkable and neutral they would appear to other readers who don't know what it's like. What it's like to devote hours and hours of work on a chapter only to get told that "there's too much talk about the crazy cat lady in it for me". Or wreck your brain for days to get a scene realistic and believable only to be told that "the doctor wouldn't call the baby 'it'". Or have a really funny idea dismissed as "huh, didn't know that was a thing". True, all those things didn't hurt that much when I read them first, but here's another thing about these little drops of blood in the ocean, these tiny little pinpricks - they continue to irritate and itch, for months and years even, until they finally start to fester and really hurt, even drive you crazy, and you can never shake them off again completely. It happened to me and I've seen it happen to other writers here and it makes me sad. And mad. This was supposed to be a Friendly board! So here's my appeal to everyone who writes reviews: review all you like, even criticize if you feel you absolutely have to – but please – **PLEASE**! - take a moment before you click 'send' to read over what you've written and try to imagine what those words would do to **you** if that story was **your** baby in a stranger's arms, a baby **you** offered to the world for free, without compensation for the hours and hours of work. And ask yourself if you really want to send that review, to do that to the baby and its parent. Or if it wouldn't be better to talk with the writer personally in a PM about whatever you didn't like so much in a chapter or story first. Or keep it to yourself altogether. That's really all I ask.


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